The Benedict Job: a different perspective
by InSilva
Summary: Ocean's 11 from Rusty's point of view. Complete! No, I can't believe it either!
1. Chapter 1 Reunion

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Disclaimer: these characters are not mine. They are the wonderful creation of a team of writers and I thank them for them. For this fic, I need to reproduce lines that are direct lifts from the first film. I did not write these lines. They are the work of the wonderful writers. The scenes in-between and around the action you know and love – that's my bit. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter One: Reunion

It was a warm Hollywood evening and the street was full of party people. None of them paid any attention to the man in the dark suit which was exactly how the man in the dark suit liked it. Munching the tortilla chips, Rusty looked over the crowd with a jaded eye. He could do without this evening but he had made himself come out, made himself make the effort. Ten weeks on, maybe tonight he would make it past forty-two seconds before the kids began to grate.

"Hey, Rusty, what's up?" Topher's arrival quickly dampened this hope.

"Let me ask you a question, are you incorporated?" he queried as they entered the club through the private side entrance and made their way down the hall.

Rusty shot him a disbelieving look that, poor poker player though he was, even Topher could not fail to read. Privately, Rusty thought _twenty-nine seconds – a new record._

Topher plunged on. "OK, if not, you should really think about it 'cos I was talking to my manager last night—"

"Bernie," Rusty interrupted, certain that this was the correct name. Although he tuned out much of the starlets' conversation, he made sure he listened to names and connections: you never knew when you'd need them.

"No, not Bernie, my business manager…actually, you know what, they're both named Bernie." Topher sounded mildly surprised at this revelation. "Anyway, he was telling me that because of what we do could be considered, like, research for a future gig or whatever, I could totally make it a tax write-off, the one thing is and this is, like, just his thing – stupid - but I'd have to pay you by cheque."

Rusty just looked at him. Topher wilted under the gaze and what had seemed a reasonable, nay, sensible idea the night before melted away.

"Or we could just stick to cash," he volunteered and Rusty nodded his agreement. _There you go. Let's just stick to cash. And I am not asking for enough of it._

The game was as exhausting as usual, his sense of déjà vu heightened as he heard himself saying what he'd said so many times before.

"Josh, to the left."

"How you bet is your business, you want to make them think you're betting for a reason."

"You don't want four, you want to fold."

"Shane, you've got three pairs. You can't have three pairs. You can't have six cards in a five-card game."

The crowning moment came as Topher laid down his hand in triumph.

"All red."

Rusty stared down at the mixture of hearts and diamonds and felt his heart crease.

* * *

The club was heaving. He sat at the bar, pressing the whisky to his face, staring ahead blankly at the bump and grind in front of him, wondering for the nth time how he'd ended up here. Surely there were other things, better things, better outlets for his skills… 

The barman smiled at him and tried to strike up a conversation.

"How's the game going?"

"Longest hour of my life," he replied with honesty.

"What?" the barman shouted over the hubbub, a grin plastered on his face.

_Jeez. _He decided he didn't have the energy for honesty. When had he?

"I'm running away with your wife," he shouted back, grinning and smiling.

"Great!"

_Jeez._

* * *

Slowly, his feet dragged him back to the private room. _Not much longer,_ he promised himself. _One more session, maybe two…then he'd leave these…these children behind. He'd go on vacation. Hell, he deserved a vacation, a change of scenery, a change of company, a change-_

His thoughts skidded to a halt as he reached the doorway. Seated at the card table, charming the marks, joining the game, was Danny.

Dark eyes met his. Rusty sat down opposite those dark eyes and the pair of them started talking with words spoken and unspoken.

_What are you doing here? Last time I remember, we weren't exactly talking._

_More to the point, what are you doing here? Cardsharp to the stars? _

Rusty considered for a moment then shuffled the deck and the game continued.

"Mr Ocean, what do you do for a living, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Why would I mind you asking? Two cards. As a matter of fact, I've just got out of prison."

There was a definite frisson in the room. This was a criminal. A real-life criminal. Rusty's mouth set a little firmer. What the hell did they think _he_ was? Chopped liver?

"Why were you in prison?" A hint of reverence, a soupçon of thrill.

"I stole things."

An honest answer. Rusty could almost taste the awe.

"Like jewels?"

_Enough of this awe-shit, _Rusty decided.

"Incan matrimonial headmasks," he contributed and was rewarded by a twitch of Danny's lips.

"Is there any money in those Incan matrimonial…"

"…headmasks," Danny finished with an admirably straight face. "There's some."

_Are they for real?_

_You have no idea. Isn't the mineral water enough of a giveaway?_

"Don't let him fool you," Rusty admonished, "there's boat-loads if you can move them. I'll take one. But you can't."

_You were wrong._

"My fence seemed confident enough."

_You know why I did it._

"Deal in cash and you don't need a fence."

_You never cut me out again._

"Some people lack vision."

_I'm here, aren't I? _

"Probably everybody in cell block E."

_Oh, you're forgiven. Take another look at the hand you've just been dealt._

He was ready to forgive and he was ready to move on. Danny had come looking for him.

* * *

They took the kids for a decent pot – payment, Rusty thought, for the stupidity he'd had to witness – and left the club. 

He led Danny to his convertible in comfortable silence. As Danny followed him down the street, Rusty felt his presence fill a void he had stopped noticing.

After their argument, he'd missed him badly. When Danny had got himself caught, Rusty had retired to a room with a supply of bourbon and emerged in time for Danny's trial. In disguise, he'd even managed to engineer a brief meeting in the halls around the court, bumping into one of Danny's guards and falling against Danny, dropping the slightest bit of paper into Danny's hands.

The message had read:

"AT&T: reach out and touch someone". Which roughly translated to "Let me know when you want to talk".

There had been no word from Danny until he had been in prison for three months. And then he'd received a postcard that had spent two and a half months being redirected around various haunts to make sure that it did not lead anyone to Rusty.

The postcard had read:

"Cut down on traffic accidents". Which was a terse way of saying "Keep your distance".

That could be taken different ways. Maybe Danny was trying to protect him – after all, he'd sent the postcard on an epic journey of misdirection. Or maybe they still weren't talking. But now, Danny was back. And talking was top of the list of things they were going to do.


	2. Chapter 2 Plans

The Benedict Job: Rusty's point of view by InSilva

Disclaimer: characters, not mine; lines from first film, not mine; bits in-between and around, mine. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter Two: Plans

"God, I'm bored," Rusty said à propos of nothing as the convertible headed downtown.

"You look bored."

"I _am _bored." _Is that what you wanted to hear?_

"So how was the clink?" Rusty continued. "Did you get the cookies I sent?"

_You were missed but you know that._

You _were missed but you know that too._

"Why do you think I came to see you first?" came the retort.

Rusty smiled inwardly. He knew _exactly_ why Danny was there and the anticipation kept sending a little burst of adrenaline through him.

They pulled into a car park backing on to a café bar whose coffee and discretion Rusty liked.

"You come here often?" Danny asked as they walked through the door into the near-empty room.

"Is that a line?"

"Not since 1980. Two lattes, please" Danny ordered as they slid into a booth.

Rusty waited till the coffees arrived and the waitress had slipped away. Then, he could wait no longer.

"So tell me."

"It's tricky," Danny said, leaning forward. "It's never been done before. It's going to need planning and a large crew."

Rusty's mind started moving.

"Guns?"

"Not exactly, a lot of security, but the take-"

_Never mind the take._

"What's the target?"

"-eight figures each."

_Enough of the sell. You had me at "it's tricky"._

"What's the target?" he repeated.

"When was the last time you were in Vegas?"

"What, you want to knock over a casino?" Rusty was startled.

Danny held up three fingers and Rusty did a double take. He shook his head with a laugh and took a mouthful of coffee. That was Danny. Blue sky thinking, nothing. Danny's thinking always headed out all the way out through the stratosphere and kept on going.

"You got any food back at your place?" Danny asked suddenly.

"Sure."

"As in vegetables. Meat. Protein."

"Bacon-flavoured potato chips," Rusty volunteered after a little thought. "And there's some Chinese takeout somewhere."

"Probably stuck to the back of your fridge," Danny suggested. He looked around. There were a few regulars down the bottom end of the bar making conversation with the waitress and the bartender. Apart from that, they were on their own.

"No names and you're fine," Rusty said quietly.

Danny hesitated then nodded. He called the waitress over and ordered two plates of the house special.

"How tricky's tricky?" Rusty asked as they waited for the food.

For a moment, the smile left Danny's eyes.

"We're going to need to be at the top of our game."

The waitress appeared and deposited the chicken and fries in front of them. Danny stared down at the meal then glanced up at a beaming Rusty.

"Now I know why you like it here," he said. "They cook your kind of food."

Rusty listened and ate as Danny ate and talked. It was bold. It was daring. It was completely Danny.

_Three casinos…security…eight figures each..._Rusty's eyes were fixed, unseeing, on a piece of fried chicken.

"I need to see the plans."

"Then, let's go see them."

Rusty looked up quizzically at Danny.

"The plans are in the city," he said and it was a statement rather than a question.

Something in his tone made Danny look at him sharply.

"Coincidence," he said. _I promise._

Rusty nodded slowly. _It had better be._

* * *

The architects' offices were a short distance away, steel and glass thrusting its way upward into the Los Angeles skyline.

"How did you find out where they were housed?" Rusty asked as they walked up the steps to the entrance.

"Computer privileges."

"You mean you got to surf the net inside courtesy of my hard-earned taxes?"

"That would carry more weight if you actually paid taxes," Danny pointed out.

He knocked on the door and the night watchman left his desk and came forward.

"Oscar," Danny acknowledged as they were let in.

"Good evening, Mr Ocean," Oscar greeted him accepting a couple of notes. Rusty didn't even raise an eyebrow. Danny was nothing if not prepared.

As they headed up in the elevator for the fortieth floor, Rusty considered himself intrigued. He hadn't been tested since…well, since the last time he worked with Danny and the sheer audacity of hitting three casinos sent a pleasant shiver through him. To think that less than two hours ago, he'd been praying for a challenge. This fitted the bill beautifully.

"How long you been working on this?" he asked idly.

"Little while," Danny shrugged. "Gave me something to do."

Rusty glanced over at him, wondering if the authorities realised that giving a conman time to think and plan was counter-productive to the reason they had locked him up in the first place.

The elevator doors opened on to an office that was bright and modern and big. Oscar had helpfully left the lights on for them and Danny headed unerringly for the big blueprint cabinet. He did a quick search, pulled out a set of plans and took them to the desk where Rusty had cleared space.

"The vault at the Bellagio," Danny announced as they pored over the drawings.

The technical specification was complex and precise and Rusty squinted at the information, constructing a 3-D image out of the lines and curves.

"If I'm reading this right, and I like to think I am, this is probably the least accessible vault ever designed."

"Yep."

Rusty studied the plan again.

"You said three casinos…?"

"These feed into the cages of the Mirage and the MGM Grand but every dime ends up there." Danny tapped the vault.

"The Bellagio, the Mirage…" Rusty paused, scanning his mental roladex. He looked askance at Danny. "These are Terry Benedict's places."

Danny held his gaze.

"Yes, they are. Do you think he'll mind?"

_Do I think…?_

"More than somewhat," Rusty replied with understatement.

He straightened up. Terry Benedict's reputation preceded him. Successful, ruthless, vindictive. Stories abounded regarding what he'd done to those who'd crossed him and Rusty would lay money on even the most extreme of them being true.

Rolling up the plans together with some blank paper, Danny broke the silence.

"So."

_So…are you in? So…can it work? So…what do we need?_

Rusty exhaled.

"You're going to need about a dozen guys doing a combination of cons."

"Like what, you think?"

He rubbed his lips, considering.

"Off the top of my head, I'd say a Boesky, a Jim Brown, a Miss Daisy, two Jethros and a Leon Spinks, not to mention the biggest Ella Fitzgerald ever."

He shot Danny a sideways glance.

"Where do you think you're going to get the money to back this?"

"Hit these three casinos, we'll get our bankroll. Benedict's got a long list of enemies."

"But enemies with loose cash and nothing to lose?"

From the corner of his eye, he could see Danny waiting for the penny to drop.

"Ah…" it was a long exhalation. The answer was obvious. "Reuben."

"Reuben," Danny agreed.

"Hey." A flashlight shone into his eyes.

"Oscar, lower it a bit, would you?" Danny asked.

"Sorry," Oscar sounded genuinely apologetic. "You guys done up here? Find what you want?"

Danny held up the plans.

"Just want to take these home for the night and make some copies, if it's all right?"

"Whatever you need."

"Appreciate it."

Oscar left and Rusty replaced the paperwork on the desk they'd used. He picked up a set of technical pens and added some instruments for good measure. As he followed Danny, his thoughts started to race.

It was unique and it was dangerous, two aspects which more than anything meant it belonged to Danny. But even though it had been four years, Rusty was able to read Danny as if it had been yesterday. And there was still something…

Standing in front of the elevator, he ran his fingers over his mouth, deep in thought then felt Danny's eyes on him.

"What?" The single word was full of impatience, frustration and a hint of annoyance that Rusty was not completely sold. It was the hint that did it for Rusty.

"I need a reason. Don't say money," he added quickly. "Why do this?"

"Why not do it?"

Rusty looked at him and shook his head. It was not enough. Just not enough.

Danny tried again.

"Because yesterday I walked out of the joint after losing four years of my life and you're cold-decking _Teen Beat_ cover boys."

_Ouch. Fair point,_ he conceded with a shrug.

Danny went on.

"Because the house always wins. Play long enough, never change the stakes, the house always takes you unless," he said bringing every ounce of conviction to bear, "when that perfect hand comes along, you bet big and then, you take the house."

_The ultimate gamble…_he considered it for a moment. It was plausible and Danny obviously wanted him to believe it. Rusty's inner truth detector was not completely convinced but he knew he wanted to work with Danny again as much as Danny wanted to work with him: it had been too long. He told his inner truth detector to be quiet.

"You've been practising that speech, haven't you?"

"A little bit," Danny admitted. "Did I rush it? Felt like I rushed it."

"No, it was good, I liked it," he assured him then added, "_Teen Beat_ thing was harsh."

They stepped into the elevator and Rusty folded his arms.

"I wonder what Reuben's going to say?"

"Probably tell us-"

"Yeah."

* * *

They bid goodnight to Oscar and stepped out on to the street. A cool breeze had gotten up and Danny pulled his collar up round his neck.

"Can we head home? You got what you need?"

"Right now, I need to think."

"Have you got enough chocolate?" Danny was semi-serious. Rusty functioned best on junk food.

Rusty considered the question.

"There's never enough chocolate," he said hopefully.


	3. Chapter 3 Preparation

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Disclaimer: characters, regretfully not mine. Just borrowed them for a bit. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter Three: Preparation

The doorman nodded to Rusty as he and Danny entered the apartment building, set in a select part of the city. They travelled up to the twelfth floor and Rusty opened up the door on a luxurious living space.

Danny looked at the rich interior and raised an eyebrow which Rusty answered.

"Belongs to a man named Bruce. He's currently overseas."

The eyebrow was still raised. _And you get to live here in the meantime because…?_

Rusty grinned as he dropped his suit jacket and tie on a chair.

"Apparently, I'm his type."

Danny paused as if thinking about a comment then deciding against it. Shrugging off his jacket, he headed towards the kitchen. He placed the recently purchased bottle of whisky on the side and Rusty retrieved two glasses to accompany it. This was for later. For now, they had graft ahead of them.

Danny spread out the borrowed plans on the kitchen table. No photocopying, no external involvement, no short cuts: they had to copy these themselves. Besides, it was the one guaranteed way to immerse yourself in the design: it made you aware of every last feature. Rusty produced the technical pens and instruments.

"For you."

Danny took them with reasonably good grace and ignored the accompanying smugness.

"Why do I always end up with inky fingers?" he complained. "I thought you were supposed to be-"

"Oh, I am," Rusty assured him. "Watch me at work."

For his part, Rusty adjourned to the leather sofa with a bag of Hershey bars. He skinned one of them and bit into peanut and caramel, feeling the sweetness envelop his tongue. He let out an almost soundless murmur of enjoyment.

"I missed that."

He peered over the top of the sofa. Danny's head was bent over the plans, his hands steadily, carefully, confidently reproducing the dimensions of the vault.

Rusty dropped down again on the leather, closed his eyes and bit off another piece of chocolate. In his mind's eye he could see the outline of the heist: now he needed to do what he did best and fill in the details.

* * *

"No, no, no, no, no!"

It was later. He opened his eyes in frustration to see Danny standing over him.

"What?"

"Exit strategy." The words ripped from Rusty's lips.

"You don't think-"

"That bit's fine. Absolutely fine. It's the ballast."

"Ah. Well…" Danny looked thoughtful.

"Don't worry," Rusty said, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. "I'll crack it."

Danny produced the whisky and the glasses. He poured a drink for Rusty, then one for himself and sat down opposite in an easy chair.

"Plans are done."

"I'll check them."

"You will," Danny agreed with feeling.

Rusty sipped the whisky and looked properly at Danny for the first time.

Older, of course, maybe a few more grey hairs, though not so as you'd really notice. Apart from that…he wondered what he had looked like when he'd emerged from prison, before he'd sloughed off the institutional skin. He wondered whether Daniel Ocean, convict, had been as charismatic and recognisable as Danny Ocean, conman. More than anything, he wondered how he'd survived.

"It wasn't easy," Danny said, sensing the question and rolling the glass of malt in his hand. "I coped better than most, I suppose."

He took a deep mouthful.

"Not pretty enough to have to worry about bending down for the soap in the shower, not hard enough to have to worry about who wants to fight me next…"

He looked down at the glass.

"The best way to get through it's to let them all meet someone else. Someone easy-going, who keeps their nose clean and their head down and does their time. That way you can keep a little bit of yourself to yourself… hold on to what makes you you."

_To hide yourself for four years…_Rusty thought. _The conman conning the system._

"So what do you reckon? Did I make it?"

Danny said it carelessly but there was nothing casual about the question. Rusty was the only person he could – would – ask and the only person whose answer mattered.

Rusty said nothing for a moment. Then he raised his glass.

"I'd say you've still got your soul."

Some tension seemed to leave Danny's shoulders. He raised his glass and accepted the toast.

Rusty topped up their glasses and asked the question he had been wanting to ask and trying to avoid in equal measures.

"She know you're here?"

"No." The answer came quick and fast and Rusty read the "No Fishing" sign around the whole topic area. Still, he had to push. Just a little bit.

"She know you're out?"

"No." Firm. Closing that avenue of conversation right down.

Rusty just waited. Danny sighed.

"She contacted me once in prison and what she sent me made it quite clear where she felt we stood."

"OK…" The "No Fishing" sign was now painted in bright purple with neon lighting. He had to ignore it just once more.

"You alright with that?"

"Dealing with it, thank you. Haven't you got plans to check?"

Rusty drained his glass and stood up. Tess would wait.

* * *

It was later still. Rusty rocked back on the chair and rubbed his eyes. The copied plans were accurate to the last detail.

Swallowing a yawn, he stood up. He glanced over to the living area and found Danny curled up in the easy chair, feet up on the coffee table and lightly dozing. He looked peaceful.

Rusty glanced at the bedroom and then headed back to the sofa and stretched out. He was asleep within seconds.

* * *

It was nearer dawn than dusk when Danny shook him awake.

"I'm going to drop the plans back to the architects."

"Mmrfgh?" Rusty responded.

"It's alright, I've got your keys. I'll be back for breakfast."

As he left, Rusty's last thought before sleep claimed him once more was that Danny had wanted to make sure he knew he was coming back again.


	4. Chapter 4 Morning

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Disclaimer: Rusty and Danny not mine, darn it! Hope you enjoy.

Chapter Four: Morning

Rusty woke to the unmistakable smell of bacon cooking. He stretched then pushed himself up on one elbow and looked over at the kitchen. Danny was showered and dressed and busy with the frying pan. The table already had toast on it.

"I didn't know Martha Stewart was your cellmate," Rusty yawned as he padded over.

Danny looked at him.

"What did you have in mind for breakfast?" he asked.

"There's some-"

"No."

"Or-"

"Definitely not."

Wordlessly, Rusty reached into a cupboard and produced a box of Poptarts.

"Not a chance," said Danny firmly, serving up two plates and pushing one of them Rusty's way together with a coffee.

Sighing, Rusty put the Poptarts down and sat at the table.

"When did you become my-"

"So long ago, I can't remember. I'm surprised your teeth don't itch," Danny said, waving a fork at Rusty.

"Four years and all you can do is criticise my diet?" replied Rusty, running his tongue experimentally over his front teeth even so.

"Thank god it was only four years. Any longer and…" Danny shook his head in mock despair.

"I'm only humouring you because you just got out," Rusty said, biting into the bacon. "Don't think this is going to last."

Danny just grinned and Rusty found himself grinning back. Four years - no, more like seventeen years melted away. This was the euphoric feeling he used to get in the early days when they were starting out and were busy setting their own rules, playing their own game, making this world their own. For the first time in a long time, he felt right.

They ate in silence for a moment and then Danny cast an appraising glance around the apartment and pursed his lips.

_Want to tell me about Bruce?_

"Want to tell me about Tess?" Rusty shot back.

"I asked first."

For a capricious heartbeat, Rusty considered not answering or offering up wild fabrication but denying or lying to Danny was like misleading himself. Pointless.

"Party four months ago," he explained. "Bruce was busy telling anyone who'd listen he was off to Asia at the end of the week. Picked up his address-"

"From his wallet?"

_Of course._

"Just wanted to be clear."

"Once he'd gone abroad, I came here ready to be an unexpected nephew. Turns out Bruce often has male friends stay when he's away so they let me in without the third degree." Rusty shrugged and took a sip of coffee. "Who was I to disillusion them?"

"Who indeed? When's Bruce back?"

Rusty gave another shrug.

"No one knows. Could walk through that door any minute."

Danny's eyes flicked to the door and back again.

"Don't worry, if he comes back I'll be fine," Rusty reassured him. "As long as I can still outrun you."

Danny chuckled.

"Your turn," Rusty said quietly.

The smile faded from Danny's face and his gaze dropped to the piece of toast in his hand.

"She didn't speak to me for four years," he said slowly. "She didn't call, she didn't write. The day I got out, the divorce papers arrived. Seems she's not the forgiving kind."

_I'm-_

_Thanks._

"Does it hurt?" Danny went on. "It hurts. Can I cope? I'm coping. The job will help." He took a mouthful of coffee. "OK, first things first..."

Rusty didn't need the end of that sentence. Reuben. Without Reuben, there would not be a job.

"I'll book flights," he offered.

* * *

The mid-morning flight to Vegas lasted a little over an hour. Leaving Danny to charm an upgrade out of the stewardesses, Rusty disappeared into himself, oblivious to anything except how to make the impossible possible.

They hit the airport Starbucks before the lunchtime rush and found a quiet table at the back of the room with a supply of coffee.

"So…?" Danny asked.

"Got some people in mind."

He didn't want to share just yet and he knew Danny didn't expect him to. Names came later: too early and you jinxed the job.

Danny nodded.

"Think I've got an inside man lined up," he said, equally cautious. "And when I was tracking you down last night, I heard someone else was around who might be useful."

He drained his coffee.

"I'll leave you to it," he announced. "I'll go and sort out transport."

"Nothing too-"

"Would I?"

As he left, Rusty flipped open his cell phone and punched in a number.

"Virgil?"

"It's Turk."

In the background, he heard "Did they want me? They wanted to speak to me, right? Give me the phone."

"Get away from the-"

The line went dead. Rusty sighed and redialled. He got the busy tone four times before he got through. This time, he waited for Turk to announce himself.

"It's Rusty."

"Rusty!" Turk sounded delighted. "Tell me you need us."

("Rusty's calling? What does he want?")

"Are you at a loose end?"

"You have no idea. Six months at home and counting."

("Has he got a job? Let me talk to-")

"I may have something. I'll be in touch." Rusty rang off hurriedly before the brothers' verbal squabbling turned physical. The Malloys were reliable, effective and they were people you could work with: the only drawback was the difficulty they had working with each other.

He dialled another number.

"Hello?" a wary voice answered.

"Livingston?"

"Who is this?"

"It's Rusty."

"I don't know anyone by that name," the voice said quickly and hung up.

Nonplussed, Rusty stared at the phone then tried again.

"Hello?"

"Livingston?"

"Who is this?"

"It's not Rusty," Rusty hazarded.

Livingston sighed.

"What you up to anyway?" Rusty was curious. "Running with the Feds again?"

"Will you be careful?" Livingston hissed. "This line may not be clean."

It was Rusty's turn to sigh. Livingston was a mix of brilliance and anxiety and occasionally the one got in the way of the other.

"Can you at least tell me what part of the country you're in?"

There was a silence. Then, in a hurried gabble, "I'm working freelance in Santa Monica, if you must know."

"No kidding," Rusty was pleasantly surprised to find him so close to home.

"What do you want?"

"Sorry, Livingston, who knows who's listening? I'll be in touch."

Hanging up, he continued to run through his mental notes. _Munitions, grease man…._more calls to make. He started dialling.

* * *

Danny found them a convertible to borrow from long-term parking and Rusty drove them out through the Vegas boulevards towards the outskirts of the city.

The air in Vegas hit them dry and hard, whipping across their faces as they drove. It was as familiar and welcoming as an old friend who hadn't seen you in a while, a friend that perhaps you owed a little money to, a friend that maybe you wanted to play a few hands of cards with, just to pass the time, just to see if you could win your money back.

Rusty breathed in deeply. It smelt like home.


	5. Chapter 5 Reuben

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Chapter Five: Reuben

Disclaimer: Many, many lines from the first film here. Unavoidable, I'm afraid. Needless to say, I lay claim to none of them nor to the characters. Hope you enjoy.

As they parked up, Rusty thought briefly of when he had met Reuben. He had not known quite what to make of him at first. He was a mixture of power and shrewdness and flamboyance and whimsy and something else…something which, only later, after Reuben had saved him from those out to rook him, Rusty had identified as generosity.

Reuben's home was palatial. Money made from the early casinos in the desert had been recycled into opulent touches that echoed all the way back to those glory days. Its owner seemed genuinely pleased to see them.

"Lunch! Come and have lunch. Dominic is rustling up a tuna niçoise as we speak."

Dominic delivered three impeccable salads poolside and they ate as they listened to Reuben bemoan the state of his share portfolio, the cost of importing decent cigars and the decline in the number of skilled tailors. Eventually, he waved a fork at them.

"OK, why are you here?"

Rusty raised his eyebrows in Danny's direction. _Your idea, your pitch._

"We have a little project we wanted to talk over with you," Danny began.

"Because you respect my opinion or because you respect my wealth?"

Rusty hid a grin. Nothing got past Reuben.

"We love you for both, Reuben," he assured him.

"I'm flattered," Reuben was wary.

"You are the first and only person we'd consider talking to," Danny elaborated.

"I'm still flattered and I'm still waiting."

Rusty glanced at Danny who pursed his lips and bit the bullet.

"We want backing to hit three casinos in Vegas."

There was a pause and then Reuben exploded.

"You're out of your goddamned minds! Are you listening to me? You're both of you nuts!" He was aflame. "I know more about casino security than any man alive. I invented it. And it cannot be beaten."

He started to catalogue the reasons why casinos did not, under any circumstance, get robbed. Even by the best. As he listed them, an expression of wry affection flitted across Rusty's face and he exchanged a look with Danny. Reuben always had a sense of the dramatic: they'd learned long ago that he loved displaying it.

"It's never been tried," Danny began.

"Oh, it's been tried," Reuben corrected him. "A few guys even came close."

He launched into the three most successful robbery attempts in the history of Vegas. As Rusty listened, he knew that Danny was thinking what he was thinking. _Nothing like what they had planned. _They waited until the tirade had finished.

"You're right," said Rusty. He turned to Danny. "He's right."

"Reuben, you're right," Danny agreed. "Our eyes're bigger than our stomachs."

"That's exactly what it is, pure ego." Rusty's voice held a note of self-reproach.

They stood up and shook hands with Reuben, excusing themselves with polite mutterings. Reuben looked a little taken aback that they were leaving but recovered quickly.

"Look, we all go way back and I owe you from the thing with the guy in the place and I'll never forget it."

Danny waved it away. "It was our pleasure."

"I'd never been to Belize," added Rusty. _What a venture that had been…_

"Give Dominic your addresses, I've got some remaindered furniture I want to send you."

They started walking away; Rusty, idly wondering about the remaindered furniture but mostly wondering when Reuben would bite: Reuben hated half a story.

"Just out of curiosity, which casinos did you geniuses pick to rob?"

Rusty gave a mock frown as if he were trying to remember.

"The Bellagio…"

"The Bellagio, the Mirage and the MGM Grand." Danny helped him finish.

_How long?_

Rusty did not even have time to answer: the bait was gulped down whole.

"Those are Terry Benedict's casinos."

Danny and Rusty stood facing each other.

"Is that right?" Rusty asked.

_Hook, line…_

_...and then some._

"That's right," Danny confirmed.

They waited, fishermen reeling in their catch, as Reuben stood up and hurried across to them.

"You guys, what do you got against Terry Benedict?"

"What do you have against him? That's the question."

Reuben was full of righteous indignation as he answered Danny.

"He torpedoed my casino. Muscled me out. Now he's going to blow it up next month to make way for some gaudy monstrosity. Don't think I don't see what you're doing," he scolded finally wise, wagging a finger at the two of them.

"What are we doing?" Rusty asked, barely able to suppress a smile at Reuben's exasperated face.

"You're going to steal from Terry Benedict, you better goddamned know," Reuben said warningly. "This sort of thing used to be civilised. You'd hit a guy, he'd whack you, done. But with Benedict…at the end of it, he'd better not know you're involved, not know your names or think you're dead because he'll kill you and then he'll go to work on you."

"That's why we have to be very careful, very precise." Danny said carefully, precisely and even Reuben could read that message:_ we have a plan, a plan that will work._

"Well-funded," Rusty suggested.

"Yeah…you got to be nuts too." Reuben's face relaxed and they knew they were home and dry. "You're going to need a crew as nuts as you are. Who'd you got in mind?"

"That would be telling, Reuben," Danny admonished.

"You know we're superstitious like that."

"Planning a little recruitment drive over the next few days," said Danny. "Appreciate it if we can all meet up here at the weekend."

"Of course," Reuben made a magnanimous gesture. "Mi casa, su casa."

"Thank you, Reuben." Rusty shook his hand.

"Be seeing you," Danny did the same.

Reuben looked at them both with fondness.

"I still think you're crazy…"

"That's because you know us so well," Rusty grinned.

"…and I know I'm certifiable for backing you. Why in the world am I doing it?"

"Same reason," Danny answered and they left him, smiling in agreement.

* * *

"See you back in L.A.," Danny suggested, dropping Rusty at the airport.

"Where you headed?"

"Going to key in our inside man, do a little recce, take in a little culture."

Later, much later, Rusty would think back to this moment, picture the way Danny doesn't quite meet his eyes and kick himself for not picking up on this. As it is, he's busy wondering if the inside man is who he thinks it is and all that hits him is the anomaly.

_Culture? In Vegas?_

"Meet you at Juliette's tomorrow," Danny said, ignoring him. "Lunchtime?"

"Naturally."


	6. Chapter 6 Livingston

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Chapter Six: Livingston

Disclaimer: lines from film, not mine; characters from film, not mine. Other stuff, mine.

A/N: Thank you, Lynne, for not blinking when your mad friend asks you for a random line of Japanese!

The following morning, Rusty sat surrounded by bubbles in Bruce's oversized bath, defiant Poptart in one hand, cell phone in the other.

"Sorry, Rusty," the voice on the other end was saying regretfully, "Tynan got out of the business a couple of years back."

"Could he be tempted back?"

"Sure," the voice sounded amused. "Long as you took chocolate. He's no good to you as a grease man. He developed a sweet tooth and put on about a hundred pounds."

Poptart halfway to his mouth, Rusty stopped. He balanced the Poptart on the edge of the bath and went back to the phone call.

"Any suggestions?"

There was a pause.

"There is someone…" the voice said thoughtfully. "How are your Oriental languages?"

Rusty thought for a moment.

"Sumimasen. Are wa ore no sake no koppu desu." #

Laughter came from the other end of the phone.

"Guess again."

* * *

Up and dressed, he tried Livingston once more.

"You up for a meeting?" he said as soon as Livingston answered.

"Yes, I'd be happy…when…er, where?"

"Juliette's in town. About…" he did a quick mental calculation. _Time to meet Danny, talk names through, eat lunch…_ "3pm today."

"Sure, Rus. Rusty?"

"What?"

"Is it- is it something…is it…I mean I'm working with the Feds at the moment and it's pretty stressful…"

"Tracking the mob?" Rusty guessed and took Livingston's silence for agreement.

"But what I'm doing isn't all that – in any way…this job…"

"Livingston, it will blow your mind," he said firmly and hung up.

* * *

Juliette's was a smart Santa Monica café overlooking a boulevard. Rusty had eaten and was already on his second coffee when Danny arrived.

"At last," Rusty said, signalling the waitress to bring over another espresso.

"You didn't wait?" Danny asked with a straight face.

"Well, I didn't know you were working on European time."

"You ready?"

Rusty was. "Alright, who's in?"

"Frank C's in," Danny said.

_Excellent, _thought Rusty as Danny explained the circumstances surrounding "Ramon"'s relocation to Vegas. Frank went way back through Atlantic City and Vegas. He'd been around not long after they'd started and he'd worked with them in the casinos so often, it was impossible to think of a casino job without thinking of Frank.

"What about drivers?" Danny asked.

"I talked to the Malloys yesterday."

"The Mormon twins?"

"They're both in Salt Lake City, six months off the job. I got the sense they're having trouble filling the hours."

Danny nodded and Rusty knew he was thinking about the pros and cons of working with Virgil and Turk. For what they needed them for, it would be worth putting up with the bickering.

"Electronics?" Danny moved on.

"Livingston Dell. Livingston's been doing freelance surveillance work of late for the FBI Mob Squad."

"How are his nerves?"

"OK. Not so bad you'd notice."

He caught sight of Livingston making his way towards the café despite the obstacle of a dog and its rollerblading owner. Danny watched Livingston's progress with amusement.

_Joining us?_

_If he can make it past the mime artist._

"Munitions."

"Phil Turentine," Danny suggested with some confidence. Phil was an old hand when it came to explosives. Even losing the tip of his right thumb to a slight miscalculation hadn't slowed him up.

"Dead," Rusty poured cold water on that possibility.

"No shit?" Danny was genuinely amazed. "On the job?"

"Skin cancer."

"You send flowers?"

"Dated his wife for a while," Rusty shrugged. _Does that count?_

"Basher's in town," Danny suggested.

Rusty hesitated. Basher was certainly top of his list but his talents were currently employed elsewhere and Rusty did not think much of the people he was working with.

"There might be an issue with availability."

Danny got it immediately.

"What do we need to do?"

"If all goes to plan, nothing. If not, we just need to be close and ready. Actually," he corrected himself. "I need to be close and ready, you just need to be close."

There was a small, discreet cough. Livingston had arrived. He was just as Rusty remembered him: neat, nervous with a hint of self-deprecation.

"Hello, Danny…Rusty."

"Hello, Livingston," Danny greeted him. "Pull up a chair."

"Just like that? I mean you think I should- not at the next table or anything?"

"Livingston, just sit down." Rusty instructed and he did as he was told, taking the seat next to Rusty.

"Coffee?" Danny offered.

"No, thank you. No caffeine in the afternoon or I can't…I'll just take some water if that's alright."

"Tell me, Livingston, what is your current schedule?" Rusty asked, pouring him a glass.

"Oh, I'm probably tied up till Thursday, maybe Wednesday, well, I say Wednesday but Thursday's more likely," Livingston stopped all of a sudden and took a big gulp of water.

"We have something we'd like to discuss with you," Danny began.

"Here?" Livingston's eyes widened.

"Not here," Rusty reassured him.

"What we're thinking of doing is going to need someone who is very comfortable with electronics."

"Comfortable and competent."

"And competent," Danny repeated.

"And available."

"Does that sound like you?"

Livingston looked from one to the other.

"I guess…"

Rusty reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and produced a plane ticket to Vegas. He laid it on the table in front of Livingston who blinked at it.

"No obligations, no expectations," Danny said. "This Saturday. Do you want to come and hear more?"

"I-yes, yes, I'd like that," Livingston nodded, pocketed the ticket and made to stand up. "Is that all? I mean I should probably be getting back…"

"Livingston, you don't know where to go once you hit Vegas," Rusty reminded him and Livingston kept his seat. Rusty produced a neatly written card with Reuben's address and handed it to him.

"Saturday evening, eight o'clock," Danny said.

"OK, I'll be there," Livingston said and took another large gulp of water. Unfortunately, it went down the wrong way and he dissolved into a spluttering fit.

Danny and Rusty exchanged looks.

_He's brilliant, remember, he doesn't have to be co-ordinated._

_No, Rus, but he does have to function in public._

_He'll be OK._

"You alright, Livingston?"

"Yes, thank you, Danny." Livingston stood up, wiping his eyes. "I'll see you both in Vegas."

Danny watched him go then turned back to Rusty.

"Who else?"

"Got a lead on a grease man. It's going to need a trip to San Diego."

"Tomorrow?"

"I think so. We're going to be tied up with Basher tonight." Rusty would have laid money that they were going to need to spring him.

"I asked Frank C to lift some security tapes from the Bellagio and copy them. Should give us some visuals on what we're up against."

Rusty stared down at the table and ran his left index finger around his bottom lip. The tell didn't show when it mattered, say, in a hand of poker or during a con: it only ever came out when Danny alone would pick up on it and that never mattered because it was Danny.

"What is it?"

Rusty shrugged.

"Still haven't figured out the ballast. It's eating me a little. Be good to see the visuals."

Danny nodded. It was always good to see the visuals.

* * *

#"Excuse me, sir, but that is my glass of sake."


	7. Chapter 7 Basher

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Disclaimer: Rusty, Danny and Basher - so not mine. Not even the arresting officer is mine. Lines from the film? Not mine either. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter Seven: Basher

The night was wet. Danny and Rusty sat in the car and watched the front doors of the bank. Basher and the crew had disappeared inside a short time previously.

"When did we last work with Basher?"

"Six years ago."

"The Jensen job," Danny remembered.

"The Jensen job," Rusty agreed. "Terracotta-"

"-plant pots," Danny finished, smiling at the memory. "And the parakeet. Wonder if Basher's still got that bird."

"He did eighteen months ago."

Danny looked askance at him.

"We worked together in London."

"Mmph," Danny did not sound overjoyed to be reminded that working had been an option unavailable to him over the past four years. Or that Rusty had worked without him. Or both.

"He'd taught it to sing 'God Save the Queen'." Rusty paused. "Actually, I'm not sure it was the traditional arrangement."

He checked his watch.

"Two minutes?" Danny asked.

"Less."

On cue, the sirens started and the world turned blue and flashy.

"You're up," Danny said. "I'll wait round the corner."

Rusty slipped out of the car and stood in the shadows, waiting and watching as the gang was marched out of the bank, Basher in the lead, his hands cuffed behind his back. He was being fiercely quizzed.

"And that's all you used during the event? Nothing else?"

"Are you accusing me of booby-trapping?" Basher sounded outraged.

"Well, how about it?" The officer wanted to know as they pulled level with the police car.

"Booby traps aren't Mr Tarr's style. Isn't that right," Rusty swung himself into the conversation, drawing heavily on a cigarette, "Basher?"

Basher took in the disguise and swallowed his grin.

"Peck, A.T.F.," Rusty flashed a badge and then dropped into technobabble. "Let me venture a guess. A simple G4 mainliner, double-coil, backwound, quick fuse with a drag under 20 feet?"

The officer looked suitably impressed.

"Let me ask you something else," Rusty continued, building his part. "Have you searched this scumbag for boobytraps on his person? I mean really searched, not just for weapons?"

At the man's blank look, Rusty moved forward.

"Stand back," he ordered, pushing Basher up against the police car.

"Here we go," muttered Basher, full of injured innocence as Rusty frisked him, whilst also taking the opportunity to pass him a small charge with a magnetic attachment.

"Go find Griggs," Rusty instructed, his air of authority absolute. "Tell him I need to see him."

"Who?"

"Just find him, will you?" Rusty almost roared and the officer disappeared in search of the non-existent Griggs.

"Hey, Bash."

"Hey, Rusty."

"How fast can you put something together with what I just slipped you?"

"It's done."

They started moving away, briskly, purposefully, skirting the police cars, not meeting anyone's eyes. They'd both learned long ago that if you looked like you should be somewhere, looked like you knew where you were heading, people rarely challenged you.

"Is Danny about?"

"Yeah, he's waiting around the corner?"

"Ah. 'S t'riffic," Basher said happily. "It'll be nice working with proper villains again."

Rusty threw a glance over his shoulder and shouted:

"Everyone, down! Get down!"

The police car exploded. Distraction and diversion ruled.

"They weren't expecting that shit!" Basher crowed as they jogged down the street away from the scene.

They found Danny and piled into the back of the car.

"Wotcher, Danny," Basher said by way of greeting.

"Good to see you again, Bash. Rus?"

"I got them," Rusty busied himself with Basher's cuffs. "You drive."

* * *

"No shit! Vegas?"

Rusty nodded, mouth full of burger. They had stopped at a fast food drive-thru and were sitting in the car park.

"You up for hearing more?" Danny asked.

"Too right!" Basher sounded thrilled. "Been longing to get my teeth into something juicy."

Danny looked at Rusty licking his fingers to clear up the odd bits of relish that had escaped.

"Oh, we can do juicy," he said and Rusty grinned.

* * *

They dropped Basher off at his car and headed back to Bruce's. Danny took up residence in the easy chair while Rusty dug out a couple of beers and a cheesecake.

"Not for me," Danny said, accepting a beer but waving away the dessert. "Or was it even on offer?"

Rusty held up the two forks in his hand and Danny waggled his head in apology. Sitting down on the couch, Rusty placed one of the forks next to Danny and the cheesecake on the table between them.

_I will not change my mind._

Rusty said nothing, simply broke off a forkful and asked, "How's it feel?" before pushing it into his mouth.

Danny watched the cream and the biscuit disappearing.

"Working?"

Rusty nodded.

"Liberating," Danny confessed.

_Like you're truly free. _It felt that way to Rusty too. He took another forkful.

Danny watched that second mouthful vanish then swore under his breath and picked up his fork. Rusty shook his head.

_You are so easy to lead astray._

_You have a lot to answer for._

Rusty hit the remote and the plasma burned into life. He scanned the film channels.

"What have we got?"

"'Arachnophobia'…'Total Recall'…'Beaches'…?"

"No, no and are you kidding?"

Rusty remembered and smiled. "I told you at the time I didn't know."

"Comedy, you told me."

"I said I thought it was a comedy," Rusty corrected. "It had Bette Midler in it."

"Like saying 'Casablanca' is a gangster movie because it stars Bogart," Danny grumbled.

"You could have left before the lights went up. I did."

"I _know_ you did."

"Anyway, you had sunglasses."

"It was a midnight showing. I looked ridiculous."

"Yeah," Rusty agreed, his face splitting into a grin. "Actually…yeah."

They settled on 'Angels with Dirty Faces' and reduced the cheesecake to a plate of crumbs.

"You take the bed," Rusty offered as Jimmy Cagney marched to his doom. "You're the guest."

There was a pause.

"Well, technically, we're both guests," Danny said.

There was another pause, then Rusty added:

"Actually, technically neither one of us is a guest."

"Guess we'll stick to the living room furniture then."

Rusty yawned. "You want the couch?"

"You look comfortable. I'll stay here," Danny yawned back, stretching out.

"You sure?"

There was a small half-snore from the easy chair. Rusty smiled to himself and hit the off switch on the remote.


	8. Chapter 8 The Malloys and Yen

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Disclaimer: characters...not mine; lines...film, not mine; rest, mine. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter Eight: The Malloys: Yen

In the morning, Rusty called Utah while he was waiting for Danny. Virgil answered the phone at the Malloy residence.

"Hey, Virgil, you guys up for a little out of state trip?"

"Just say the word, Rus. We're there."

"You got a pen?"

"A pen…hold on…"

The phone was put down and Rusty waited patiently while various sounds travelled all the way from Utah. Eventually, after thumps which Rusty guessed were cupboard doors and bangs which he thought might be drawers, and incoherent shouts which Rusty knew for certain heralded Turk's arrival, followed by a decisive "Leave it to me!", the phone was picked up again. It was Turk.

"Shoot, Rusty."

He gave out the time and the place and just as Virgil had before, Turk said, "We're there".

Danny appeared as he finished the call.

"Malloys are in," Rusty said. "You ready to go and see the Amazing Yen?"

"That's his name?"

"That's his name."

"He doesn't have much to live up to then." Danny glanced down at the packed bags. "Are we moving?"

"Thought we might. We're going to be in Vegas for a fortnight and after that, I figure it'll either be prison or…" he gestured with his right hand and then, with his left. "Or…"

"Let's go for the second 'or'." Danny interrupted. "I've done prison and I don't fancy the other alternative."

"Fine by me."

* * *

They loaded the bags into the trunk of the convertible and headed down Interstate 5, the west coast road towards San Diego.

"So what else did you do while I was away?" Danny asked as they drove.

_There had been Detroit and Seattle…Charleston and Indianapolis…Nashville and NYC…and when things had been a little too hot for him in the States and he'd needed to lie low, he had headed to Europe. Worked with Basher…hung out with Roman…brought Frank over for a job and he'd stayed for another…and then, Rome…Rome and Isabel…short-term bliss. He'd even found himself wondering about the long-term. And then the house of cards had collapsed. It was Rome and then, home. Running home to hide from everything and burying himself at Frank's for a fortnight, badly shaken. From Frank's, he'd headed to Hollywood, still needing time to recover but trying to work his way through it. The card school had been a first step. And it had helped. If only to serve to remind him that he was made for a bigger and better stage._

He looked over at Danny and considered his answer.

"This and that," he replied and knows that Danny knows this is a stall. But he also knows that Danny will accept it for the moment. What he knows but Danny doesn't, is that he won't be ready to tell for some time if at all.

The weather was fine and sunny and the conversation moved into lighter waters but all the while he drove, Rusty was waiting for those three words, three inevitable words that Danny was bound to utter, unless he got in first with an alternative. And he was fresh out of alternatives.

* * *

They parked at the circus and walked slowly up to the big top. It was an afternoon performance but it was still packed. Families thronged around them. Danny queued for tickets while Rusty queued at the refreshment stand.

"It's the circus," he said firmly in answer to Danny's shake of his head as if that explained everything.

"Never liked the circus," Danny confided as they went into the tent.

"Clowns?"

"What?"

"Clowns. Lots of people don't like clowns. Because they hide their real face and people find them all a bit-" Rusty waggled his hands not entirely successfully as they held Coke and a bag of some startlingly pink confectionery of uncertain origin.

"I can handle clowns," Danny assured him as they took their seats. "It's the whole animal thing."

"Animal thing's…"

"Exactly."

They clapped their way through various acts until the acrobats appeared.

"Which one's the Amazing Yen?" Danny asked as they started their routine.

"The little Chinese guy," Rusty said helpfully. _Just watch._

"Who else is on the list?"

"He _is_ the list." _Just watch._

Danny sighed and pulled a face. "I don't know, he doesn't seem all that…"

He stopped in mid-sentence as Yen ran up a pole and back-flipped across to another one, holding his landing position on the other perfectly.

_Doesn't he? _Rusty smiled broadly and sipped his Coke.

"We got a grease man," Danny said, impressed.

"We got a grease man," Rusty agreed, clapping.

* * *

They found their way to back of house and after some false starts, found Yen by himself, cleaning off his make-up. He threw them both a glance in the mirror, and then went back to studying his reflection and busying himself with the cotton wool.

"Mr Yen? My name is Rusty Ryan and this is Danny Ocean. First of all, I would like to say how much we admire your skill. We've just watched you and you were…indeed…amazing."

Yen did not appear to have heard.

"Danny and I were given your name as someone who might be interested in hearing more about a commercial opportunity, an opportunity which is perhaps a little off the beaten track."

Yen's hand may have faltered slightly in its task but in truth, it was impossible to tell.

"We are convening a meeting in Las Vegas at the weekend. Here is the address and here is a ticket." Rusty moved forward and laid them both on the table beside Yen. "If you would care to join us, we would be honoured."

Yen said not a word. Rusty looked at Danny. _Time to leave. _As they did, Rusty threw one backwards cursory glance.

"So, how did that go?" Danny asked on the way back to the car.

Rusty threw him an amused look. "Well. It went well."

"And you know that because?"

"Because I began and ended what I said with compliments. Because I described what we wanted to talk to him about with discretion."

Danny did not look convinced. Rusty relented and went on:

"Mostly because my contact told Yen to expect us but more than anything because when we were leaving, he was looking at the ticket."

"You sure about that? I don't want to go into this without a grease man secured. Neither of us is fitting into that cart."

"He'll be there."

They were outside by this time, heading back to the car. And then Danny said the three words that Rusty had been anticipating and dreading.

"We need Saul."

"He won't do it. Got out of the game a year ago." He ate a chunk of the pink stuff and threw the rest in the back of the car, hoping none too optimistically that Danny might let it lie.

"He get religion?"

"Ulcers." He tried to head him off.

"You could ask him," Danny suggested.

"Hey, I could ask him," Rusty repeated lightly. And yes, he could do that much.


	9. Chapter 9 Saul

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Disclaimer: characters, not mine; lines from film, not mine; rest, mine. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter Nine: Saul

A/N: not sure how it reads, but it was one of my favourite bits to write so far.

* * *

Before everything, even before Danny, there had been Saul. Robert Charles Ryan could, if pushed, talk about his early years: a nickname that stuck that came from his six-year-old classmate, Barbara Everett's inability to say Rob C Ryan; or on to less lightweight matters, a parent dying, a parent walking out; being left with an indifferent aunt who didn't want him, didn't care for him and who certainly didn't bother when he decided he was old enough to leave and make his own way. In fact, Rusty would have bet she was more concerned about the money he'd lifted from her purse. He spent his first 48 hours of independence cold-sweating that she'd sent the police after him until he realised she'd thought the loss a fair exchange to be rid of him.

Robert Charles Ryan could also tell you about his life from then on till Saul found him. He could but he wouldn't. Saul knew part, Danny knew more and both thought they could guess the rest but no one really knew all except Rusty.

Saul had saved him. He'd bought Rusty breakfast and he'd offered him a place to stay with him and Annie, no strings. "Remind me of my kid brother," he'd said gruffly and Rusty had thought at the time there must have been a big age gap. Even then, Saul was old.

Annie turned out to be everything Rusty had missed out on as a kid. In no time at all he idolised her almost as much as Saul did. Life, for once, was sweet.

"There are things you need to know the answers to in this life, Robert," Saul said to him after he'd lived with them a little while. "Whether you prefer to sleep with men or women…whether you want to eat meat or not…what religion you want to follow…but the most important thing you need to decide on is what your talents are and what line of work they best fit you for."

Rusty had smiled because he was pretty clear on at least two of those. By then, he knew what Saul's own line of work was and he felt sure that world was made for him. His education started in earnest. Control, card-counting, sleight of hand, short cons, long cons, distraction, diversion, disguise…. Saul it was who trained him on the importance of blending in, of background work, of checking the angles and calculating the percentages.

At school he had been a distinctly average pupil, uninspired by what was being taught, doing what he needed to do to get by. Under Saul's tutelage, he blossomed: he soaked up knowledge, practising and practising till he had mastered techniques, till he was fluent in the con.

Danny and he met through Saul. Danny was all vision and charisma and persuasion and the "what": Rusty was all observation and charm and implementation and the "how". Saul saw the fit before they did and they felt the fit before they understood it.

Saul was there at the beginning, at his beginning, at the beginning of Danny and him.

_Danny sending him to ask was clever because his connection was just that much longer, just that much stronger than Danny's._

Annie's death eight years ago had aged Saul further. It had started his health problems and when he had announced his retirement to St Petersburg, Rusty was glad that he would at least have some time to himself. He had earned that.

To take him out of safety and security, to take a sick, old man that he owed so much to and to put him in danger, to make it so that at best, he would be looking over his shoulder to see if anyone was there and at worst, that he would not be looking anywhere again…

_Danny sending him to ask was shrewd because although Rusty was ready to let Saul go if he seemed happy and square it with Danny later, there was every chance that maybe, just maybe Saul was not that happy at all._

And then, there was the job. It demanded the best. Anyone second class would not do. They needed Saul even if he didn't need them.

_Danny sending him to ask was quite the masterstroke; he had to ask him: there was no one else._

* * *

He found Saul at the dog track. Standing in the crowd, he played with the silver ring on his right hand as he watched Saul studying the programme, peering at the dogs on parade and carefully marking off his bets. There was something in Saul's manner, a deliberation that Rusty noticed, because after all, Rusty could read people: Saul had taught him.

When Saul moved, it was almost a shuffle. He was seemingly blind to the impatience of those who wanted to get past him. He kept his head down as he pottered off to the bookies, another old-timer enjoying a day out. Rusty propped up the wall as Saul handed his money over to the cashier at the window. A couple of times he said things and Saul asked him to repeat them. He picked up his betting slips and put them in his pocket then nodded to the cashier before turning away.

Rusty smiled because by now, he was convinced Saul was playing a part: to perfection, naturally. He picked up some tickets for box seats – better views and better privacy – and tailed Saul to the terraces. Saul was sitting on a bench, busy peeling an orange. As Rusty leaned on the back of the bench, he didn't even look up.

"I saw you in the paddock before the second race, outside the men's room, when I placed my bet," he said, concentrating on the orange. "I saw you before you even got up this morning."

With that, Rusty made up his mind. Saul had to be in: his instincts were as sharp as ever.

"How've you been, Saul?" he asked.

"Never better," came the firm answer.

"What's with the orange?" Rusty was curious.

"My doctor says I need vitamins."

"So why don't you take vitamins?" It seemed logical to Rusty.

"You come here to give me a physical?"

"I got box seats," Rusty offered. "Come on."

They made their way through the crowd to the upper tier seats.

"Danny sent you," Saul said matter-of-factly as they climbed the steps. "You'd never come otherwise. Must be something big to make you come visit an old man you don't really want to bother."

_He wants to know…_Rusty's heart gave a leap.

They stopped by the refreshment stand and Rusty picked up a jelly dessert while Saul ordered a coffee.

"You still eat rubbish?" Saul said looking pointedly at the sweet snack.

"Coffee's not that healthy," Rusty replied.

"Bet you drink that too. By the time you're my age – you should live so long – you'll wish you'd taken better care of yourself." He looked Rusty over. "Sure you look good now. You wait till middle age hits. It'll all catch up with you."

He took a sip of coffee as the dogs were called to the traps.

"Which dog we're cheering for?" Rusty asked, spooning the jelly into his mouth.

Saul consulted his tickets. "Number 4. 'Wait till Christmas'."

Rusty read the ticket upside down. "At those odds, you probably will be."

Saul harrumphed. "So you gonna tell me? Or should I just say no and get it over with?"

_Curious. He's curious. Which means we're halfway there._

"Saul, you're the best there is. You're in Cooperstown." He meant it. Saul was a legend. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," Saul said firmly. "I got a duplex now. I got wall to wall and a goldfish. I'm seeing a nice lady who works the unmentionables counter at Macy's. I've changed."

Rusty had to call him on that.

"Guys like us don't change, Saul. We stay sharp or we get sloppy, but we don't change."

"Quit conning me."

Rusty grinned. He looked at the race which was underway. "That your hound way in the rear there?"

"He breaks late. Everyone knows this."

Rusty and Saul watched the dog round the last bend. Still in last place.

"So you gonna treat me like a grown-up at least?" Saul complained "Tell me what the scam is?"

And Rusty knew, just knew...

Reaching in to his inner pocket, he pulled out a plane ticket and handed it over, leaning in as he did so and whispering in Saul's ear. "Finally, a job to match you, Saul. Be at Reuben's, eight o'clock Saturday."

Confident, he clapped Saul on the shoulder, then stood and walked away.

* * *

He phoned Danny from the airport.

"Saul's in," he said and could feel Danny's relief without needing to hear him say a word.

"Head for Vegas," Danny said. "Meet me in Solly's bar."

Rusty trailed back to Vegas and found Danny and a whisky sour waiting for him at the little no-star hotel tucked away at the back of the MGM. It was slightly run-down, slightly seedy, very empty. Perfect for two men who didn't want everyone knowing their business.

"How was he?" Danny asked as he sat down.

"Made me work a little. Not too hard. Timing was right."

He let out a yawn and stretched.

_Don't tell me you're running out of steam before we start._

_I'll last. _

"Going to speak to Reuben tomorrow about a dedicated working space," Rusty said, leaning forward on his elbows and sipping the whisky. He rolled his head on his shoulders as if trying to dislodge some knotted tension. As he did so, he caught sight of Danny's face, his lips twitching.

"Don't worry, I'm not asking you for a massage."

"I'll go get us a room," Danny offered, turning towards reception and then turning back again.

_That wasn't related._

_I'm quite certain._

As Danny disappeared, Rusty stretched forward along the bar, resting his head on his arms. He was weary, even if he wasn't going to admit it to Danny. The adrenalin rush that had kicked in three nights ago was fading now that the recruitment drive was coming to an end. The jetlag wasn't helping. And he couldn't stop the little niggle at the back of his mind that they still didn't have enough resource. He wondered if Danny felt the same.

An ad for the Lewis fight started to play on the television and he stared at it dully, barely registering Danny's return behind him. They watched the ad together.

"And Saul makes ten," Danny said. "Ten ought to do it, you think?"

The back of Rusty's head was non-committal.

"You think we need one more?"

The back of Rusty's head considered another recruit to be prudent but wasn't going to push things.

"You think we need one more."

The back of Rusty's head did actually, if it were pressed.

"OK, we'll get one more."

The back of Rusty's head relaxed.


	10. Chapter 10 Briefing

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Disclaimer: none of these lovely people are mine.

A/N: sorry for the delay in continuing this story. Got sidetracked into Brynverse and one-shots. Bad me.

Chapter Ten: Briefing

* * *

Rusty woke from deep, dreamless sleep to find a note from Danny on the pillow next to him.

_Spoke to Bobby Caldwell. _

_Gave me a lead on a guy in Chicago. __I'll be back tonight. _

_PS Personally, I think the yellow is an improvement. _

Rusty frowned. _Yellow…?_ He looked down his front and grimaced. "Man…"

Last night came back sharply into focus.

"_You want anything?" Danny was studying the room service menu. He looked over at Rusty stretched out on top of his bed, propped up on his pillows, watching a re-run of "Laverne and Shirley"._

"_Fried egg sandwich," he'd said with certainty._

_Danny had disappeared into the corner with the phone._

"_Don't even think about changing that to a club salad," he added, his eyes fixed on the screen._

_Danny looked wounded. Caught out but wounded._

The sandwich had arrived. Rusty definitely remembered it arriving. He remembered taking it off Danny and resting it on his chest…he just couldn't remember eating it. He looked down at the mess and sighed.

He stripped off and showered, bending his head and letting the lukewarm water run down over him, over his shoulders, down his flanks. He felt the reluctant heat seep into him, reinvigorating, renewing in spite of itself.

Eventually, he turned the water off and grabbed a towel that had seen better days. He made a cursory wipe of his face and hair and then pulled it round his waist, wishing that it was actually a towel of more substance. If the fire alarm sounded now, he'd be in trouble. Heading back to the bedroom, he checked the time, dug out his phone and called Reuben.

"Reuben, we're on for first briefing. Saturday night, if that's OK."

"What if I'm washing my hair?"

"Are you?" Rusty was amused.

"Are you kidding?"

_Rather think you started it,_ Rusty shook his head at the phone. "Reuben, we need a space in town. Close to the Strip."

"What size?" Reuben's tone was immediately business-like. "I've got an empty warehouse. Used to use it for storage for the hotel I don't have anymore."

"Sounds perfect." _Make that_ _ironic and perfect. _"What's the address?"

* * *

From the outside, the space was nothing, just part of another square block, a short distance away from the Strip. From the inside, it was just what Rusty was looking for.

He phoned Reuben.

"What do you think?"

"Thank you, it's ideal. Reuben?"

"Yes." Guarded.

"I need to spend money."

There was a sigh. "Come and see me."

* * *

He was sitting in the hotel room surrounded by notes when Danny returned late with Chinese takeout.

"Have you eaten?"

Rusty just looked at him.

_OK, pointless question._

Rusty pushed the paperwork on the floor and helped Danny unpack the food

"How did you get on?" Rusty asked, digging his fingers into the prawn crackers and eyeing up the crispy seaweed.

"I pulled," Danny said, smiling at Rusty's obvious intent to sample everything immediately.

Rusty did the double take Danny intended.

"Well, a wallet at least," he amended, taking a forkful of shredded crispy chilli beef.

"Who's the guy?"

"He's called Linus."

Rusty tried the chilli beef. "As in Charlie Brown?"

"He's young," Danny went on. "I'd put him mid-twenties though he looks younger. He's good, potentially great, given his pedigree."

He made Rusty wait until he'd eaten another mouthful before delivering the bombshell.

"He's Bobby Caldwell's son."

Rusty stopped chewing. "Is that entirely wise?"

"What do you mean?"

"Danny, if this goes any way other than how we want it to, we're going to have two people seriously pissed off at us that we really don't want to annoy."

_Oh._

_Yes, oh._

"But this _is_ going to go the way we want it to, isn't it?"

Rusty exhaled slowly then jabbed a fork savagely into the chicken and pineapple.

"I'd say you just raised the stakes. Not to mention the stress levels."

Danny waved a prawn cracker at him. "You can take the pressure. I have faith."

"Thanks."

"Linus will be fine. Besides, Bobby recommended him."

Rusty didn't look convinced and Danny changed subjects.

"How did you get on?"

Rusty said nothing for a moment, still thinking about the pros and cons of Linus. Then he sighed and said, "Courtesy of Reuben, we have an excellent base of operations."

"We need to start-

"-we've started," Rusty put him right. "First shipment arrives on Wednesday. I'm still sourcing the chips but that's not going to be an issue."

"We can always-"

"Yes, we can. Although that would really take time and resource."

Danny nodded. Both of which were tight.

* * *

He'd been given the night off but before he'd left, Dominic had done them proud. The spread poolside at Reuben's was magnificent.

Rusty and Danny were already there, drinks in hand, when Frank arrived.

"Hey, Frank."

"Danny, Rusty," he acknowledged.

"Drink?"

"Rum and coke would go down a treat. Shift today was a son of a."

Rusty poured. Then the doorbell rang again and Reuben opened the door to a matful of men.

* * *

The chat buzzed around the pool. As he and Danny chatted to Livingston, Rusty could see Turk in conversation with Saul, Virgil standing with Frank, Basher talking to Reuben, a cross-legged Yen on the diving board, balancing cards and Linus, awkward and silent on the fringe.

Rusty watched him surreptitiously. Hints of Molly, hints of Bobby wrapped up in a wide-eyed, boyish face…in fact, all Rusty could see was his youth and that was a concern. No experience could mean panic, carelessness, a need to impress…Rusty frowned inwardly. Talent was one thing but it was quickly outweighed by unchannelled impetuosity. Haste meant mistakes, mistakes meant failure and that was not an option.

Danny caught his line of sight. _What do you think?_

"Think I need another drink," he said, avoiding the question.

He helped himself to another and Frank broke away to join him. He looked around and leaned in conspiratorially.

"Have you heard anything from-"

"No," Rusty cut him off quickly. "Far as I know, she's headed off to Amsterdam with her promotion. Anyway, money's far more interesting than a woman, don't you think?"

Frank grinned as if appreciating the possibilities that money could lead to and Rusty congratulated himself at heading that particular line of questioning off at the pass. He wasn't ready for Isabel to be public knowledge. He especially didn't want Danny to know how close he'd come to complete meltdown in more ways than one.

The party mood continued. Danny and he worked the crowd, individually and together. Except for Linus: Rusty left Linus all up to Danny. Danny and he needed to speak about Linus.

He could see Danny now, stopping in front of the boy - _the man, _Rusty corrected himself - giving him a smile of encouragement and welcome. Linus still looked overwhelmed.

"Rusty." Bash was at his shoulder.

"I hope you've been lying low, Mr Tarr."

"You bet. Got a nasty feeling I'm a bit too hot to handle in LA at the moment."

Rusty grinned. "Bash, that's just a way of life for you."

"You know I don't think it'll ever change," Basher grinned back.

"Exactly."

Danny called them to order.

"Gentlemen. Welcome to Las Vegas. Everybody eaten? Good. Everybody sober? Close enough. Alright, before we get started, nobody's on the line here yet. What I'm about to propose to you is both highly lucrative and highly dangerous. If that doesn't seem like your particular brand of vodka, help yourself to as much food as you like and have a safe journey. No hard feelings. Otherwise, come with me."

* * *

If the short con was the equivalent of a one night stand (wham, bam and thank you very much), then the long con was an elaborate seduction. Details upon details, layers upon layers, carefully deployed, charming and insinuating their way into place, all adding up to the inevitable conquest.

And the seduction started early, beginning with the crew. They needed to buy in to the job absolutely, else it absolutely wouldn't happen. Rusty looked around the room. The majority of people here had worked with Danny and himself at least once before and they knew _how_ Danny and he worked. That was one of the reasons why they were here. The _what_ was the other reason. And now they had to make sure they sold it.

Listening to Danny outlining a con was like a sort of foreplay. His voice alone was the hook, full of husky velvet and silky promise. It alone could get him men and women that he wanted. It alone could cast a spell that teased and enticed and intrigued and made the listener want to hear more. The voice set them up: the eyes and the smile finished them.

Rusty felt the voice wash over him. Even he, who had heard that voice at work so many times before, even he, who knew exactly what that voice was going to say, even he was not immune. His heart started beating just a little bit harder; his blood started moving just a little bit quicker; adrenalin started pulsing round his body just a little bit faster. He licked his lips surreptitiously, trying to ignore how stimulating listening to Danny could be, and made himself concentrate.

There was a heady atmosphere in the room as they listened to Danny spinning his words into a dazzling web – here's the impossible and we're going to do it. Rusty helped him deliver the speech, the rhythm moving naturally between them, intimate confidants letting the others in on a breathtaking secret. His main role, though, was to watch the room and gauge reaction.

Reuben went without saying. So did Frank. Turk and Virgil and Basher and Livingston were drinking it in, already imagining the parts they'd play. Saul looked sceptical but then he always played devil's advocate: have the post mortem up front and you saved the project. Yen was harder to read but his body language said he was engaged. That left Linus. Bobby Caldwell's boy: self-conscious and outside the circle. Even so, he wanted in, desperately; Rusty could tell.

Danny caught his eye.

_Everyone up for it?_

_Oh, yes._

The job was on and they shared a private, orgasmic thrill at the prospect.


	11. Chapter 11 Review

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. If only. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter Eleven: Review

* * *

"Thanks, Reuben," Rusty said, taking the proffered drink and settling back on the sofa beside Danny.

"Cigar?" Reuben opened a humidor. Rusty shook his head.

"Fine with just the whisky, thanks," Danny smiled.

Reuben lit up and sat back in a chair.

"Good to see Saul again," he said, blowing a ring of smoke across the room.

"It is," Danny agreed. "It's been too long."

"I like having him around. He makes me look young."

"Why do you think I keep working with Danny?"

_Funny._

_I thought so._

_

* * *

_

He'd asked them that initial poser and then he'd swallowed an antacid and he'd sat silently through question time. He'd been so quiet that Rusty had kept a weather eye on him. This wasn't the Saul he knew. The Saul he knew would be shouting out with the rest of them. It seemed as if Saul had some thinking to do.

* * *

"Where did you find that little Chinese guy?"

"Friend of a friend suggested him. Think he's going to work out."

"From what we've seen of him in action," Danny added, "he's made for this."

Reuben puffed and frowned. "He doesn't speak a word of English."

"He doesn't need to," Rusty reminded him. "He just needs to be able to fold himself in two in a very small space."

"Speaking's overrated anyway," Danny added.

_Or so we've found._

_

* * *

_

Yen had fitted right in. He'd spent the evening making impossible connections with Frank, with Basher, with the twins, with everyone. Rusty was pretty sure that only he had any kind of handle on what Yen actually said but Yen's understanding of what was said to him was impeccable.

* * *

"The Malloys seem nice, well-mannered, young men."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"You want to expand on that?"

"Nope." In unison.

_

* * *

_

Turk and Virgil had been the most vocal. With each other.

"_So this Terry Benedict guy…how tough is he?" Virgil asked. "I mean, if he was up against Steve Austin, you know, the Six Million Dollar Man-"_

"_Steve Austin?" Turk interrupted, his voice filled with incredulity._

"_That's what I said, idiot." _

"_Why stop there, moron? Why not Superman?"_

"_I'm keeping this within the realm of possibility."_

"_Steve Austin does not qualify. You might as well say Elvis."_

"_Elvis is dead!"_

"_Steve Austin never lived!" _

_Danny had had to call them back in line. Rusty doubted it would be the last time._

* * *

"Frank C's looking after himself as well as ever," Reuben noted. "I see he's already found a manicurist in town that he likes."

Rusty smiled to himself. Frank C always protested that he needed his hands "lookin' nice". Went with the job, he said. People noticed if you looked after yourself. Gave them subliminal confidence. Made them trust you. Made them bet more. Made them think kindly of you if they won. Rusty always thought Frank protested too much.

_

* * *

_

There was no denting Frank's enthusiasm.

"_I'd just like to say it's good to be working with you again."_

_Basher had nodded agreement._

"_You two really know how to show a con a good time," Frank grinned and Danny and Rusty had grinned back._

* * *

"I haven't met Basher before but Phil T used to rate him."

There was a solemn moment as they all remembered Phil T.

"Basher's first-class," Danny said. "If a little-"

"-unlucky," Rusty finished.

"Unlucky?" Reuben queried.

"Unlucky," Danny confirmed. It was the right word.

* * *

"_Second task, power," Danny had said. "On the night of the fight we're going to throw the switch on Sin City. Basher, it's your show." _

"_You want broke, blind or bedlam?"_

"_How about all three?"_

"_Right," Basher shrugged. "S'done."_

* * *

"Livingston's nerves…"

"They're fine, Reuben," Rusty assured him. "He can cope."

"He's worth it," Danny added quietly.

* * *

"_Third task, surveillance. Casino security has an eye and an ear on everything so we want an eye and an ear on them. Livingston?"_

"_I'll need to pick up some things…"_

"_Went shopping for you, Livingston," Rusty said. "We'll drop it off at your room tonight. Anything else you need, let me know."_

"_Livingston's room is going to be base of operations," Danny elaborated. "Number 1217 at the Bellagio. Rusty and myself are either side."_

* * *

"How did you find Bobby Caldwell's kid?"

"Through Bobby Caldwell," Danny said with a smile. He shot a sideways glance at Rusty.

Rusty refused to look back at him. _Later._

_

* * *

_

Linus had continued to hover peripherally. He looked as if he wanted to join in, just didn't know how. Unlike Yen who reeked with self-confidence and who did not seem to care what people thought of him, Linus looked as if he needed validation just to breathe. And the way he'd looked at Danny and him made Rusty's need to talk to Danny rise ever further up his list of priorities.

* * *

"It's really happening, then," Reuben said unnecessarily.

"It really is," Rusty agreed.

_

* * *

_

They'd spread everyone round the three hotels and they'd disappeared, Virgil already arguing with Turk over which of them should look after the room keys.

_Danny's words rang in their ears:_

"_You've come a long way to work with us, gentlemen. Take the rest of the night, digest, relax, enjoy. Tomorrow morning, we start."_

* * *

They left Reuben's and as soon as they got in the car, Danny confronted him. "So tell me."

"Leaving aside the consequences of how we break it to Bobby and Molly if anything happens to their beloved son-"

"Nothing's going to happen."

_We hope._

_Pessimist._

_I prefer realist._

"Leaving that aside," Rusty went on, pulling out of the drive, "he's young."

"Yes, he is. We all were once."

"Young. As in untried. Anxious. Eager to please. And I don't know that this is a job someone should be cutting their teeth on."

"You don't think he can do it?"

Rusty waved an expansive hand. "If Bobby rates him, of course, he can do it. Bobby wouldn't recommend him otherwise."

"So? If he has the talent…"

Rusty threw Danny an exasperated look.

"So…all I'm getting from him is that he wants to prove himself. Like a kid. Desperately. To his dad, to you…"

"To you…" Danny agreed. He'd noticed it too, then.

"I just think we've got to manage that. We've got to handle the eagerness. It's a factor we've got to take into account. Something extra to take into account," he added meaningfully, just in case Danny hadn't got the message.

Danny sighed and Rusty relented.

"Alright, alright. He's on board now. We still have to deal with any potential fall out."

There was a silence while they thought about it.

"Well," Danny began, "we could always-"

"Oh, I didn't say we couldn't have fun."

* * *

They smuggled the boxes into the hotel and up to Livingston's room. Rusty knocked.

"Who is it?" Livingston's voice came nervously through the door.

"The Easter Bunny," Rusty said.

"Rusty?"

"Open the door, Livingston," Danny ordered a little shortly. The boxes had been awkward.

Livingston's face appeared round the door and Rusty and Danny pushed past him into the room with the computerware. Livingston's eyes lit up as he saw the names on the packaging.

"Oh, this-this- oh, yes…"

Rusty caught Danny's eye. _Think we'd better leave him and his machines to get better acquainted._

Danny's mouth twitched.

"Night, Livingston. Catch up with you tomorrow."

* * *

Rusty opened the door to his room and Danny followed.

"Where have they hidden the minibar?" Rusty asked searching fruitlessly.

Danny sighed. "Perhaps they intend you to go downstairs to gamble rather than stay up here to drink."

"Aha!" Rusty finally located it and swung the door open. It had not been restocked and contained rather bizarrely, a little tray of Brazil nuts.

Danny peered over his shoulder. "Are you sure you weren't here earlier?"

"What if you want to eat?" Rusty frowned.

"I don't," Danny said reasonably.

Rusty looked as if he wanted to be unreasonable. Danny checked his watch.

"It's past midnight. How badly do you want a sugar fix?"

Rusty's lips tightened. "Just to recap. Apart from sorting the supply of chips, the outfits for the Malloys, the transport issue, the SWAT uniforms, and the little problem of how we are going to keep Linus out of jail or at the very least keep him alive, I still haven't figured out the damn ballast!"

"OK, OK," Danny gave in. "You stay put. Tell me what you need and I'll go and get it."

"Chocolate," Rusty said firmly. "Lots of it."


	12. Chapter 12 Starting

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Disclaimer: just playing in the playground.

A/N: Do not adjust your monitor. This really is an update. So. If anyone reading remembers this fic, it will be a miracle. It just seems to have been overtaken by other things, mostly "Justice" at the moment. And I am a bad, bad, neglectful writer.

I'd like to dedicate this chapter to all of you who have taken the trouble to read the story so far and especially to those of you who have been good enough to let me know on a regular basis that you're still out there: Ajedrez, otherhawk, ParisAmy and Silver Queen – thank you so much.

Chapter Twelve: Starting

* * *

Rusty woke to early sunlight. Around him were chocolate wrappers, empty cans of Coke and an unopened bottle of water. He looked at the water and shook his head. Danny never gave up.

He'd laid it on a little thick with Danny. The outfits for the Malloys would be no trouble, neither would the SWAT uniforms nor the transport. The chips were for show rather than use and he was already thinking about coating plain chips with a façade of real ones. The worry over Linus wouldn't disappear until the job was over. He hadn't been joking about the ballast, though. That was one nagging concern he really needed to bottom out.

_Danny had stayed and talked while Rusty dug out paperwork and ate._

"_What do you think they made of Yen?" Danny asked watching Rusty simultaneously kick his shoes off, bite into the Snickers, stretch out the plans of the casino vault and flop on the bed._

"_What do you think Yen made of them?" Rusty retorted. "Got to think he hasn't come across anyone similar in the circus."_

"_Oh, I don't know. Think the Malloys might fit right in."  
_

"_Don't change, do they?"_

"_Just get louder."_

_Danny settled back in the chair and stretched his legs out. _

"_Are you thinking about telling me any time soon?" he asked and Rusty suddenly became very interested in the plans._

"_What about?" he said unnecessarily._

"_About what it is you don't want to tell me about."_

_Rusty kept looking at the plans and muttered inwardly about the downside of having someone who completely knew you. Trust Danny not to forget the conversation._

"_It's nothing."  
_

"_If it's nothing, tell me."_

_With a sigh, Rusty swung round on the bed and looked across the room._

"_Went to Europe. Worked in Rome. Things got a little…complicated."_

"_Personally or professionally?"  
_

"_Both," Rusty admitted and suddenly knew exactly how to tell the story. "I got involved with someone."_

_He broke off not needing to worry about whether or not the rawness in his voice sounded real. He knew it did. It was._

"_I got involved with someone and it was getting…it was getting…"_

"_Somewhere?" Danny supplied._

"_Somewhere," Rusty acknowledged. "And at the same time, I was getting sloppy."_

_Danny frowned. _

"_Yeah. I know." And there was a half-grin and a shrug. "Love, man."_

_He sighed again. _

"_She found out about me. Kind of brought the relationship to an end. Rather quickly. And at the same time, I found myself wanted in another way."_

_Danny exhaled slowly and Rusty could see him working through the parallels._

"_Run far?" he said eventually._

"_Far and fast. All the way home."_

_And Danny had nodded. And they had both thought "Good"._

* * *

Danny had left him to it about half-two and he'd turned in about an hour later, mind still racing. He couldn't help it. Working on any job demanded energy and intense concentration; working on a job with Danny demanded it ten-fold. He'd got used a long time ago to existing on minimal sleep, snatching what he could when he could.

With difficulty, Rusty had parked his thoughts – _What was up with Saul? How quickly could they get the surveillance linked in? How much would they be able to secure the transport for?_ - and had deliberately cleared his mind. Just before he drifted off to sleep, the ballast issue floated through his brain again… and something Yen had said…

Now, wide awake, Rusty could remember so much and no further. In vain, he tried to catch the wisps of thought and fumed as they proved elusive. He knew better than to chase too hard. It would come back to him. It had to.

With immaculate timing, his phone rang.

"You up?"

"Yeah."

"You dressed?"

"Can be. Where are you?"

"Outside."

Pulling a bathrobe around him, Rusty opened the door to find Danny with two bags and two coffees.

"Room service?"

"Don't get used to it."

"I'm not tipping."

"Cheap."

They sat on the bed and ate the doughnuts in comfortable silence.

"You headed-?"

"Mirage," Rusty nodded. "Lunch with Basher. MGM this afternoon. Bellagio tonight. Late tonight. After the warehouse. You?"

"MGM, lunch with Saul, Mirage this afternoon. Bellagio with you. After the warehouse." He smiled. "Linus," he said by way of explanation.

_Linus had half-raised a hand then appeared to think better of it and ran it through his hair instead._

_Danny had looked across, amused. "Did you want to ask something, Linus?"_

"_Just- when are we going to all meet up again?"_

_Danny looked at Rusty._

"_Tomorrow afternoon," Rusty had said, checking with Frank who nodded that he was off shift. "I think we need to show you all the warehouse."_

"You think Linus is ever going to relax?" Rusty pondered.

"Not in the foreseeable future."

"What if we slipped him something?"

Danny looked at him, the smile creeping on to his face at the thought of it. "Tempting but no."

"We could get him drunk."

The smile broadened. "Not yet, we can't."

Rusty let the pout appear. "You're no fun anymore."

* * *

It was later and like everyone else, Rusty was busy memorising layouts. It didn't take him long. Memorising things never did. He saw the twins in the MGM and ghosted past them as they argued over the timings of the cash cart deliveries. Linus was slouched against the wall near the slots watching the watchers. He was actually looking professional up until the point where he raised an eyebrow at Rusty as he walked by and Rusty just smiled at Linus trying to appear cool.

* * *

Basher was waiting for him at Solly's with a plate of fries and a chicken Caesar for each of them. Rusty pulled his fries towards him and dug in with relish.

They talked briefly about their last job together and wondered aloud whether Agent Peck was still being sought and then Basher had given him an appraising glance and Rusty had looked askance.

"You look like you're enjoying yourself," Basher pointed out.

"You mean with the food or-"

"With the job," Basher waved an impatient hand. "Good to be working with Danny again, right?"

"Yeah," Rusty smiled. "Been too long."

"He looks sound," Bash ventured after a moment's hesitation. "After all that time inside, I mean."

"Mmm," Rusty gave an easy shrug. "Well, he's Danny and he had a plan. That's always a good combination."

"Yeah…"

"So, you looked at the blueprints for the power?" Rusty moved smoothly on.

"Oh, it'll be wicked!" Basher's eyes lit up. "There's a whole section of the mainframe that's just waiting for the back up grids to be blown. It'll look like an accident and it'll be sweet as a nut- hey!" He looked down at his plate and then up at Rusty with suspicion. "Did you nick one of my chips?"

"No," Rusty said truthfully.

"You nicked more, right?"

Rusty just grinned.


	13. Chapter 13 Groundwork

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Disclaimer: if I owned them, I'd give them their freedom to run wild anyway.

A/N: I know, I know, two days running!

Chapter Thirteen: Groundwork

* * *

The floor at the Mirage was busy and Rusty scanned the crowd with a practised eye, picking up the tourists, the professionals, the addicts. He saw the security, both uniformed and otherwise and he noted the slickness of the staff. This was as well run as the MGM Grand. He had expected it but it still made him grimace: Benedict's casinos were like little citadels. He was grateful he'd never expected any of it to be easy.

He arrived early at the warehouse and was unsurprised to find Danny waiting outside.

"Remind me again why you're the only one with a set of keys?"

"I'm the most reliable."

"Says who?"

"You do," Rusty said, opening up. "Flattery is one of your strong suits."

"I am good at that," Danny agreed.

"And delegation."

"That too."

"I know," Rusty smiled as they entered. "I'm very good at being tolerant. I've had a lot of practice."

One by one the others arrived and Danny waited until they were all stood in the space formerly belonging to Reuben's defunct hotel.

"I trust you've all had a valuable day so far, gentlemen. Any information gathered needs to be fed into Rusty."

_There goes that delegation thing again._

Danny ignored him.

"Now, this is going to be the base for the fourth task, construction. We need to build an exact working replica of the Bellagio vault."

There were some raised eyebrows.

"For practice," Rusty suggested helpfully.

"Something like that," Danny qualified.

"Materials start arriving Wednesday and we'll be on a tight deadline," Rusty said. "It needs to be finished and dressed in a week. This is going to need precision and graft."

He glanced round the faces. No one had moaned. Reuben was blowing cigar smoke in the manner of one who doubted he'd be getting his hands dirty and Rusty had to agree with that. Similarly Basher, Livingston and Saul would be mostly otherwise occupied. Frank would be able to help but only when he was off shift. Apart from him himself, that really brought the numbers down to Yen, who looked as unfazed as ever; Turk and Virgil, who looked keen to be engaged in practical activity; Danny, who looked like he would no doubt be practising the art of delegation; and Linus, who just looked anxious. Rusty was beginning to wonder if that was Linus's permanent expression.

He sighed inwardly. Well, it would get done and it would get done well. He demanded nothing less of himself.

* * *

Danny and he sat in the back of the bar at the Bellagio with a couple of long drinks and people-watched.

"Honeymooners," Danny pointed out as a giggly couple walked past hand in hand, eyes for each other alone.

"Retirement trip," Rusty added as another couple, elderly and wide-eyed made stately progress across the floor.

"Businessman." This of a middle-aged man sat at a table staring down at his drink.

"Out-of-towner."

"Not very lucky."

"Blown his life-savings."

"Thinking about how he's going to tell the wife."

"Plucking up courage to make the call."

"What he doesn't know is-"

"-his wife's left him and run away with their dentist."

Danny looked at him. "Dentist?"

"She's the sort of woman who goes for a white-collar profession."

"What about Bradley and Mary-Ann?"

"The children? Packed off to private school."

"He's just blown their life-savings, remember?"

"The dentist can afford it."

Danny grinned and took a sip of his drink.

"How was Saul?" Rusty asked.

"He was…he was quieter than I thought he would be. All lunch, it was down to me to make the conversation."

"What do you think's behind it?"

"Not sure. It's almost like he's nervous."

And saying that about anyone else would have possibly been fine because this was a big job with a big reward and with big consequences for failure. But Saul was never nervous. All the time they'd known him, worked with him, learned from him, he'd been completely confident and he'd instilled that confidence in them. It wasn't right and it niggled.

"Maybe I could-"

"-yeah. Maybe you could."

"I'll give him-"

"Oh, don't rush him. That could make it worse."

"Yeah."

The tour round the Bellagio floor took time. Between them they took in the guards, the exits, the entrances, the patterns, the cameras.

"No blind spots," Rusty commented.

"Wouldn't expect any."

"No…" Rusty was staring surreptitiously up at the main bank of cameras closest to the entrance to the back area.

Danny could see where his eyes were and kept his own neutrally on their immediate surroundings looking for anyone interested.

"Worked out the distraction?"

"Reckon so," Rusty was now measuring up the floor with his eyes and gauging the distance between the slots.

_That machine there... _He glanced up again. Yes. That should do it.

* * *

Back in Rusty's room, they picked over a pizza and cracked open a bottle of wine. Housekeeping had helpfully restocked the mini-bar. Unhelpfully, the selection was limited. Before Rusty could do more than sigh and shake his head in frustration, Danny produced a supply of chocolate he liked and Rusty's face relaxed in gratitude and appreciation.

Various pieces of information had been fed through to Rusty and he'd charted it all. Now they had their heads together, poring over it, working out the timings and the routes. Conversation was sparse as each of them digested the reconnaissance work and applied it to the overall scheme. Times like these, it felt like there was only the idea, the details and them: and that was all they needed.

* * *

Rusty spent the following morning studying the stills of the footage from the vault and making phone calls. He located a supplier of plain poker chips and he tracked down the company that provided the cash carts and another that manufactured the racking. Danny stuck his head round the door at one point, saw the level of engagement and withdrew. Rusty was grateful. He needed to keep his focus.

Satisfied with his morning's work, he visited the casino floor again, wanting to make sure he'd not left anything out of his calculations regarding the cameras, the entrance and the slots. He hadn't.

Frank exchanged a glance with him as he walked past the pit and he knew that Frank had some information to share. Sure enough, as he sat at the diner table, burger and fries and chocolate milkshake in front of him, his phone rang.

"Rusty? Think I've got something for you."

"You on a break now?"

"Pulling a split shift."

"I'm at a diner called-" he broke off. _What was it called?_ He picked up the menu again. "It's the Hungry Groundhog. Apparently."

"I know it. Just outside on the Strip, yeah?"

"Yeah. You want me to order you some food?"

"Is there any chance it'll still be there when I get there?"

Rusty smiled. "I'll try to restrain myself."

"Chicken and fries, then. I'm on my way."

* * *

Frank slid into the booth opposite him and looked appreciatively at the plate in front of him.

"Is it good?"

Rusty nodded, mouth full of his second burger. "'S good. What you got to tell me?"

"Think we might have a way in. I overheard one of the technicians talking about a girl he really likes down at the Crazy Horse Too. One of the lap dancers."

"Girl got a name?"

"Charmaine."

"Guess I know where I'm headed tonight."

"Sometimes there are perks, right?" Frank sounded wistful.

"What can I say? Dirty job but…"

* * *

The Crazy Horse Too was bright and flashy and raucous and contained the whiff of desperation that all strip joints had. Desperation in the eyes of most of the punters, wrapped up in fantasies that had moved on from the flat page or the flat screen and were now being lived out in front of them. Desperation in most of those who performed, locked into a seedier life than they had once imagined.

Rusty looked around contemplatively for a moment then shuffled his memories and walked forward towards the section reserved for private dancing.

"Hello, handsome," the hostess's face lit up as she saw Rusty approaching. "How can I help you?"

The suggestion in the question was blatant as was the pout. Rusty ignored both.

"I'm looking for a little relaxation."

"It'll be my pleasure," she purred, teeth and eyes, bright and flashing as she looked at a man different from the usual in every conceivable way: gorgeous, confident, with his own teeth and hair, and a body that looked like it would be worth finding out about.

"A friend recommended Charmaine."

"I can do better, handsome."

Rusty smiled and she looked like she might just faint.

"I really want Charmaine."

The pout was back in evidence though this time it was down to sulk rather than an attempt at sexiness. She led him through to a private booth and disappeared.

Rusty ordered a beer and waited. Charmaine emerged, a curvaceous brunette wearing what was ostensibly a nurse's uniform. Though if a nurse had actually worn such a uniform, Rusty doubted whether the effect would be at all curative. On second thoughts…

She started to gyrate in front of him and he studied her face. Young, made up to look older. She looked at him under her lashes and then opened her eyes and looked at him properly and her face changed. Her performance became more up close and personal and Rusty was wondering whether or not this was all part of the service or whether it was just because of him. The latter seemed outrageously egotistical and yet…then he looked at her face again and read amused recognition.

_Damn. Where did she know him from?_ He scrutinised her face and racked his memory. Nothing.

Eventually, he said, "I give up."

Charmaine stopped and laughed.

"Rusty Ryan…here for a lap dance? When did you ever need to pay for it?"

_Damn!_

She laughed again and took pity on him. "I'm Jo-Jo Martin's daughter."

Rusty did a double take. "Rachel?" he said in disbelief.

"Well, Charmaine's a little more commercial."

"Last time I saw you-"

"Yeah, yeah. Brace. Flat chest. I was only thirteen."

"Huh." He looked at her again. "Well, you've certainly…developed."

She did a couple of poses so that he could fully appreciate the ways in which she'd blossomed and he grinned.

"I've got a favour to ask." And knowing her made it a lot easier. "Technician from the Bellagio."

"Oh, I know. One of my regulars."

"Need you to entertain him. Then, borrow his ID tag. Then, entertain him some more."

"His ID tag? Do I want to know why?"

Rusty shook his head. "Better you don't. I'll make it worth your while," he added.

Charmaine sighed wistfully. "If only you would."

Rusty rolled his eyes. "Aw, come on. Jo-Jo made me babysit. At least twice. There's some law against sleeping with your babysitter. I'm certain."

"You only came over because you needed an alibi and because my mom makes the best Mississippi Mud Pie around."

True. And it was hard to tell which had been the stronger motive.

"I'll do it, of course," Charmaine said. "When?"

"When's he due in?"

She considered. "His shift pattern's odd but standard. He should be in tomorrow night about eight."

"Eight it is." He stood up and paid for her time. The girl still had to earn.

He turned to go and Charmaine caught his arm. "If you hadn't-"

"There'd be no stopping me," he grinned and allowed the smile on his face to turn warm and genuine, watching its effect on Charmaine as she lit up on the inside. It felt like his good deed for the day.


	14. Chapter 14 Surveillance

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Disclaimer: if I ever find out who owns them, I'm going to rustle up a Danny plan and some Rusty charm and then and only then might I be able to lay claim. Until then...

Chapter Fourteen: Surveillance

* * *

Rusty picked up some takeout, acquired a fork and plate from a table when no one was looking and headed upstairs. He found Danny in Livingston's room, the pair of them looking at banks of screens. Danny had the air of someone who had been exposed to technobabble a little longer than they found comfortable or meaningful.

_Learned anything?_

_More than you can imagine or I can recall. _

"Alright, Livingston?" Rusty shed his jacket with alacrity, plated up the takeout and dived in.

"Yes...I am…oh, very much so," Livingston looked genuinely happy.

Rusty shot a quick glance at Danny.

_That bad?_

_Worse._

"Always like to see a man content in his work," Rusty said, taking a tour of the room with his food as Livingston studied the monitors.

Danny topped up his glass of whisky and shot Rusty a meaningful look.

_Moment of_.

"So what do you reckon?" Danny asked as he perched on the edge of the couch.

"Well, it's not the least accessible system I've seen but it's close. I don't suppose they have a closed-circuit feed I could tap into?" Livingston sounded less than hopeful.

"No," Danny said as Rusty simultaneously shook his head.

"Then it's definitely a black bag job. They employ an in-house technician?"

"Two," Rusty said in between mouthfuls. "And one of them's lonely."

"You had a fun evening?" Danny knew where he'd been headed.

"Ran into a young lady called Charmaine. Formerly known as Rachel. Jo-Jo Martin's daughter."

"Rachel? She's grown-up now?" Danny sounded disbelieving.

"Up and out," Rusty said mildly.

"But the-"

"Uh-huh."

"-and the-"

"Yep. Not anymore."

"Jo-Jo made you babysit." There was a lot wrapped up in that.

_As if I would._

"Jo-Jo asked me to babysit," Rusty corrected.

"After you asked her for-"

"Hey, one good turn."

"And there was-"

"And it was delicious."

Livingston made a little strangled noise and they came back to the room.

"So," Rusty said briskly, putting the empty plate down. "We're on for tomorrow night. OK, Livingston?"

"What do I-what do you-"

Rusty smiled. "I'm going to get you an ID that will work, together with a uniform. Turk and Virgil will run a distraction that's gonna take the guard away from the door. Then it's your show."

"Right…right…I can take a portable transmitter and loop it into the main block of cables. If I can pick up the feed from the relays and send it in through a signal filter that can wipe out the noise and clean up any moiré, it'll boost the images and…it'll be perfect."

Eyes alight, he looked up at Rusty and his smile was wide then he buried his nose in a box of gadgets at his feet. "No…no…maybe…"

Danny caught Rusty's eye.

_Seriously, any of it?_

* * *

It was later and Danny's room and Rusty had insisted on investigating Danny's mini-bar.

"Look!" He held up the Hershey bar. "I am two doors away. What is wrong with this picture?"

Danny studied Rusty on all fours, chocolate in hand, indignant expression, and refrained from comment.

"Help yourself," he said redundantly: Rusty already had the wrapper off.

"You hear from Basher?"

"He's been busy," Danny nodded. "Seems to think it's straightforward enough which is good news."

"But slightly worrying." Basher's reputation was enduring in more ways than one.

He stood up to go.

"You want-"

Rusty held up another Hershey's bar and Danny nodded.

"Oh, almost forgot." Rusty produced a tape measure.

"I'm not even going to ask."

Rusty grinned.

"Got the rest of the guys' details. Arms up." He threw the tape measure around Danny and then checked the measurement. "How can you be the same size chest as you were four years ago?"

"Prison food, Rus. Healthy and nutritious."

Rusty stared at him.

"Come on," Danny chided. "You're good at foreign languages."

The stare continued.

"Oh, you would have died," Danny agreed.

Rusty flicked the tape measure out like a whip and Danny caught his wrist.

"My inside leg has not changed."

_You should be so lucky._

* * *

Lifting a technician's uniform in Livingston's size from housekeeping the next morning had been simple and he'd even managed to get a clean and pressed version, pre-empting Livingston's first question about how hygienic this part of the operation was going to be.

He ordered the balloons in person from a party store and arranged to collect them later.

"Different colours," he specified. "And lots of them."

"Ooh, who's the lucky girl?" the shop assistant trilled and he was badly tempted to tell her the girl was named Jonathan but he just dimpled back at her.

"Fiancée. It's her birthday."

"She's going to love you."

"Let's hope," he said brightly. Something caught his eye and he smiled to himself. Some things you just had to do.

* * *

Virgil's face was a picture.

"You can't be serious," he said, looking at the headwear.

"I can and I am," Rusty said firmly. "It'll be great distraction and it'll hide you."

Virgil looked miserable. "Turk's gonna-"

"Turk's supposed to. Come on, Virgil," he said with a straight face. "Where's your professionalism?"

* * *

It was all in the timing, of course. He'd left Danny briefing an increasingly anxious Livingston on the corridors he would need to traverse.

"Wait, wait. I turn right and then left-"

"Are you coming or going?" Danny frowned.

Sighing, Rusty fished a black marker pen out of a drawer and tossed it to Livingston.

"Work it out by the time I get back."

He picked up the balloons and headed over to the Crazy Horse Too. There were other strip clubs in the area which meant the sidewalk was full of speculation and supply. He stuck a Tootsie Pop in his mouth and stared down anyone who remotely looked like they might proposition him with a _you can't afford me so don't even try_. He didn't have long to wait before Charmaine sashayed out of the door and over to him.

"Thanks, Charmaine," he said, taking the id from her in exchange for cold, hard cash. "I'll have this back in an hour. Say hi to your mom for me."

"Say it yourself. She'll be on stage in five minutes."

Rusty blinked. Jo-Jo would have to be…yeah. Some details you really didn't want to know.

* * *

Rusty handed the party store goods over to Virgil and made sure he and Turk knew _exactly_ which slot machine to be in line with when the balloons went up. As per Virgil's unhappy prediction, Turk had found the hat a source of great amusement.

He opened the door to Livingston's room in time to hear Danny busy with reassurance.

"You'll be fine."

Livingston looked like he was in the middle of the biggest sweatflop ever.

"I will be fine," Livingston said to himself as Rusty clipped the id to him. "I will be fine."

He was still muttering the phrase as he walked out of the door. Danny and Rusty watched him go then Danny poured two drinks, handed Rusty one and they sat down wordlessly on the couch. They stared at the blank screens in front of them for a while sipping their drinks, neither of them wanting to voice their joint thought that this job could be over before it had begun.

_He'll be-_

_-fine._

"Turk and Virgil all set?"

"Left them arguing. I'd say that they were practising but…"

"Mmm. Don't think they'll have to try too hard to be convincing."

"How you doing?"

"Generally? Or…"

"Both."

Danny shrugged. "It beats prison. And, unlike Livingston, I really am fine."

Rusty gave Danny's face some frank scrutiny and Danny smiled.

"Agree with me?" he asked.

"Yes, actually," Rusty nodded.

Danny did look fine. He looked in control and _normal_. It was as if he'd stepped out of four years – make that five years ago and straight into a job. It was the best outcome Rusty could have hoped for. And yet…there was still something fizzing around the edges that he wasn't sure about. He thought back to the architects and the feeling he'd had then that Danny wanted and needed the job more than anything. Straight out of prison and he was risking going back again. And Rusty felt he understood the need to breathe that the job would bring Danny; the chance to show he could still operate at the highest level – because this really was the highest level. There still seemed to be something more, something underneath that Rusty couldn't pin down…

"What?" Danny asked just as he had back at the elevator although with more amusement and less fidgety exasperation.

Rusty opened his mouth to speak but at that point the screens flared into life and their attention was immediately captured.

"And we're up and running," Rusty said with a certain amount of satisfaction.

"Why do they always paint hallways that colour?" Danny wanted to know.

"They say taupe is very soothing."

Danny gave it a moment and looked at him. "Do you get this stuff from Reader's Digest?"

"Danny…" Rusty's attention was on the screen and Livingston, walking down the corridor with the look of a man lost.

"He's…" Danny tailed off as Livingston surreptitiously consulted his hand and then reached a junction and hesitated.

"No…" The word was dragged out of Rusty.

Helplessly, they leaned forward on the couch and saw Livingston go first one way and then the other and if the tension was palpable at that point, it reached an all time high level of tangibility as security confronted him. Both of them held their breath.

As they watched Livingston take back his piece of equipment and make his escape there was audible relief from both of them.

"Well…"

"…yeah."

* * *

Livingston had returned, drenched in sweat but triumphant and Rusty had clapped him on the shoulder and pulled the id tag from him, leaving Danny to press whisky into Livingston's hand and guide him to the couch and the eyes and ears he'd just put in place.

Now he was waiting patiently for Charmaine to reappear. Spot on the hour she was there.

"You have great timing," Rusty complimented her.

"Goes with my great moves," she smiled, taking the id.

"How's he doing?"

"He's like a dog with his tongue hanging out," Charmaine said.

And as one equally skilled in influencing and shaping the reactions of others, Rusty grinned.


	15. Chapter 15 Linus

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Disclaimer: am I Hollywood scriptwriter? (Checks). Nope. Not mine.

A/N: yeah, yeah. We're getting there. I hope people are still reading.

Chapter Fifteen: Linus

* * *

As he moved with confidence back through the Bellagio, Rusty spotted Linus sitting by himself in the bar with a disconsolate whisky. He wasn't sure that Linus should be drinking strong liquor but he supposed he was old enough. On a whim, he ordered a whisky of his own and walked over.

"How you doing, kid?"

Linus looked up, eyes wide and Rusty felt the frown that didn't make it to his face. Linus should be quicker than this. He should have spotted Rusty the second he walked in and he should not have shown surprise even if that was what he was feeling. He guessed that Linus was so wrapped up in whatever it was dulling his instincts. And that was not good. He sat down opposite and nodded at the glass in front of Linus.

"That a root beer?"

"I am legally entitled to drink," Linus bristled and Rusty grinned.

"What's eating you?" he asked, not out of the sentiment and the desire to help that would have made Danny ask: Rusty was curious.

He almost got a scowl by way of reply. It stopped short on Linus's face as he suddenly seemed to remember who was addressing him. Oh, Linus really had to stop that.

"I know who you are," Linus said out of nowhere.

_Right…_

"Good…?" Rusty ventured.

"I mean I know who you are." He studied the glass. "After I met Danny in Chicago, I told Mom and Dad about this Daniel Ocean who'd recruited me for a mysterious heist and they both fell about laughing."

"Danny has that effect on people."

"They were laughing at me," Linus said patiently and unnecessarily. "They've told stories about Danny and Rusty since forever. And Saul and Reuben used to get a mention every now and then too. But you two, you're like…"

"Bob and Bing?" Rusty suggested.

Linus ignored him.

"And here I am and I want to learn, Rusty, I really, really want to learn."

Rusty suddenly wondered how drunk Linus was.

"I'm not drunk," Linus said and Rusty believed him. Which kind of made things scarier.

"I just…" he tailed off and sighed. "I just want to…contribute."

Ah…that was what this was about. Rusty had already seen the hint of annoyance in Linus that he did not seem to have a defined role in this. Reuben was the bankroll: Saul was Lyman Zerga: Frank was the inside man: Yen was the inside inside man: Basher started the show: Livingston ran the show: the Malloys had multiple parts to play: and it was Danny and himself with the what and the how.

And whilst Linus should really be about watching and listening and waiting because of course he was going to be involved, they wouldn't have gone to the trouble of bringing him on board if they didn't need him, he'd started going down a route of frustration and that, if he wasn't careful, would lead all the way through petulance to resentment with a little stopover in carelessness.

He looked at Linus, earnest and brooding. The kid really needed shaking out of himself. Danny might have indulged him further but Rusty didn't have time for anything that was veering towards self-pity.

"You know what, Linus, I don't like to jump ahead or anything but I think Danny has something important he wants to run by you."

"He does? What does he- I mean, when will he-"

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of stealing Danny's thunder."

"But it's important, right?"

"It's vital," Rusty agreed gravely and, as Linus opened his mouth to enquire further, said "I can't tell you any more at this stage."

"Thanks, Rusty." Linus's eyes were full of anticipation and gratitude. "I won't let you down. Either of you."

Rusty smiled back at him. Linus had to learn that there were no unimportant parts to a job.

* * *

Danny was stretched out on Rusty's bed watching cable.

"Don't they have this station in your room?" Rusty asked.

Not taking his eyes off the screen, Danny waved a finger in the general direction of the table. A bag of Hershey bars was spilled over it.

"I'm touched."

"I'm avoiding all inappropriate comment."

"How's Livingston?" Rusty asked, lying down next to Danny, Hershey bar already on the way to his mouth.

This time, Danny did look at him.

"Enthusiastic."

"Ah." Rusty nodded to himself. Livingston seemed to alternate between nerves and sweat on the one hand and brilliance on the other. And at all times he had the potential to be as incomprehensible as Basher indulging in a full-blown bit of Cockney rant. Give Livingston the right tools and the right challenge and the incomprehensible could indeed grow even more…fervent.

"Did you have to gnaw through your own tongue?" Rusty asked between mouthfuls.

Danny grinned. "It was a close thing."

He shot a quizzical glance at Rusty. "Where did you get to?"

"Had a nightcap with Linus."

"Is he sulking?"

"How did you know?"

"Spotted him a couple of times when he didn't think I was watching. He was looking positively forlorn."

"Yeah."

"You might have been right," Danny conceded.

"No," Rusty shook his head. "You were. We needed one more for sure. And yes, he's green but out of everyone he's done the most recon. And produced the most accurate feedback. And his times tie in precisely with everyone else's."

"You told him that?"

"No," Rusty smiled. "Don't want him getting complacent. Want to keep him-"

"-hungry," Danny finished.

_Yeah._

_Something you know _all_ about._

"I let slip that you had a role for him."

"You are so thoughtful."

"I like to think so."

"He's not going to think much of it."

"No, he's not. But he needs to understand that sometimes you have to watch and wait and that's all there is."

Danny looked pensive. "I can't come down hard on him. I don't do discipline."

There was a grin. "Yes, you do."

There was a pause. "Yes, I do."

"Just don't make him cry. 'Cos there's no way back from that."

"I'll just be a little firm."

"Yeah."

Danny yawned. "Tomorrow."

Rusty checked his watch. "Today."

* * *

Wednesday was delivery day. Wood, paint, metal, tools, racking, chips, fake money: the works. Rusty and Danny had run a two-line whip to make sure that everyone who could was there to help unload and to get started. Only Basher was a no-show, tied up with the powergrid sequence.

Danny stood with him as he waved yet another lorry in to the warehouse.

"Good thing these didn't all turn up at the same time," Danny commented neutrally.

Rusty looked at him.

_It wasn't a criticism, it was a compliment._

"One day for delivery," Rusty said firmly. "One day for a tightly scheduled rota of deliveries. Because at the moment they're just materials and after today they won't be."

Danny frowned. "How much sleep did you get last night?"

"Enough."

"That I seriously doubt."

Rusty slapped the side of the lorry to bring it to a halt and sighed.

"Just a few things I need to nail. No biggie."

He kept his eyes on the lorry as the tailgate lowered and mentally crossed his fingers.

"Tell me."

So much for crossed fingers.

"It's nothing."

Danny's eyes were all over him.

"It's the ballast."

_Damn you._

"You still haven't cracked it?" And there was no note of blame, just maybe a hint of wonder. Because Rusty was Rusty.

"Thought I'd got something a couple of days back but it got away from me," Rusty said, frustration evident. "I can see them carrying the bags out and loading them into the van, I can see them pursuing the van and finding they've been had…it's just getting the bags into the vault in the first place. Because I can hardly get Yen to smuggle them in."

He folded his arms and stared at the pallets of wood and tiles in front of him and shook his head.

"It'll come to you," Danny said. "It always does."

"Thanks."

"Long as it's by a week on Saturday."

Rusty gave him a long look.

"That's the beauty of deadlines," Danny pointed out. "They focus the mind wonderfully."

_You are all heart._

"Make sure you get some sleep. I'll be round to check."

* * *

The warehouse was busy. As he helped swing the goods down the rollerbelt to be stored, Rusty caught sight of Yen wandering past with paint stacked like a house of cards on a plank of wood, balanced perfectly on his head; Frank was busy with the milling machine; the Malloys were taking it in turns to investigate the top speed of the fork lift truck; and Saul and Reuben were supervising from a distance. Rusty noted with a degree of wry amusement that Danny was also supervising. Though at least he had pen and paper. The appearance of being busy was undoubtedly what he was going for.

Linus was stood at the bottom of the belt unloading the boxes. He seemed as desperate to be helpful as ever. Rusty caught Danny's eye meaningfully.

"What do you reckon, Linus?" Danny asked. "Ready to take on a little more work?"

Linus flushed and looked at Rusty and then at Danny. "Yes! Oh, yes, of course, whatever you think…"

"We need those codes, Linus," Danny said. "From the only guy who has all three."

"Who, Benedict?"

"Learn to love his shadow," Danny told him firmly.

Linus looked taken aback.

"Wait, wait, wait, all I get to do is watch the guy?"

"You got to walk before you crawl," Danny said with a degree of misplaced profundity.

"Reverse that," Rusty advised as Linus tried to make sense of the sagacity.

Linus looked as if he couldn't quite get over the instruction.

"You just want me to tail him? I thought…I mean, Rusty said…You just want me to tail him?"

Disappointing but expected.

Danny sighed and looked at him hard. "Linus, it's important. It may not be glamorous but it's important. Essential, even. And really, I shouldn't need to be telling you this."

The reproof was mild but enough.

"I can do it, of course, I'll do it," Linus was falling over himself in apology.

Rusty caught Danny's eye once more and shook his head sorrowfully.

_How could you?_

Danny's eyes told him exactly what he could do with his mock-sorrow.

* * *

The last delivery was in and unloaded. Rusty and Livingston had laid out the markings for the area to be dressed and Rusty was running through the tasks in his head. Tomorrow would be the SWAT uniforms and Saul…he had to find time to talk to Saul…and the vans… He went and found Frank.

"Frank? You got a moment?"

"Sure, Rusty. What's up?" Frank laid down the metal and turned his head expectantly.

"You got some free time tomorrow?"

"Afternoon's free."

"Excellent. Want you to go buy the vans."

"Have I got a budget?"

Rusty grinned. "Thinking of running a book on how low you can go."

"No problem," Frank smiled.

"You need to take Turk and Virgil with you. They'll want to choose the vans and I'm sure they can be persuasive when it comes to influencing negotiation."

"Yeah."

And they both had the same mental vision of how helpful Turk and Virgil could be.

* * *

It was late. He fell in through the door to his room, hit the lights and had to admit that the bed looked welcoming. With assurances that he was hard on their heels and that he just wanted to look over a few things and please could they all just disappear, he'd sent the others off about an hour ago. Possibly two hours ago. It was hard to tell. He'd stayed and gone over his figures and the measurements again and again because it had to be so damn precise and they were only going to get one shot at building this and if it wasn't right, if by some misfortune he'd miscalculated, the whole thing would come tumbling down before they got going.

He stepped on something underfoot and picked up the little flyer advertising the services of Cotton Candy who, judging from the illustration, was an athletic young lady of unusual suppleness.

"I got one too."

It was Danny behind him in the corridor, following him into the room.

"Wonder if Benedict knows he's got someone touting for business in his hotels," Rusty pondered.

"If we see a pimp minus his hands tomorrow, we'll know."

"Were you waiting for me? 'Cos it's gratifying and all but a guy could get worried."

"Don't flatter yourself," Danny retorted, heading over to the couch with a box of what smelled like…

"Spicy beef-

"-with extra green peppers."

Rusty scooched up alongside and dived into the lukewarm pizza.

"It's getting bad when you forget to eat," Danny reminded him.

"Not bad," Rusty said between mouthfuls. "Just serious."

He became aware of Danny's gaze. "What?"

"I'm going to take care of the rappelling line for the lift shaft and the glo-sticks and the gas-puck."

Rusty frowned and put down the slice of pizza. "You don't need to. I've spoken to Basher about the gas and I'm picking up the others from Carson City on Saturday."

"OK. Let me go and pick them up."

"Why?"

Danny sighed. "Because I want to, Rus."

Rusty continued to frown then he shrugged because he could probably do with the extra time in the warehouse. "Alright. Thanks."

Apparently satisfied, Danny stood up.

"You're going to bed sometime before breakfast, right?"

"Sure."

"Rusty…"

"After the pizza. I promise."

The door closed behind Danny and Rusty picked up the pizza again. Then his eye fell on Cotton Candy once more. And he smiled to himself. Because the actual ballast had just presented itself and was so much funnier than the newspaper he'd been going to use.

He sat back on the couch, pizza still in his hand and closed his eyes. Because if he could just try his best not to think about it, he was sure the solution would arrive. It was simply a matter of being patient.

He was asleep in seconds.


	16. Chapter 16 Insecurity

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Disclaimer: they're so not mine.

A/N: I made a vow to myself not to let it slip off the first page again. So I thought I'd better honour it.

Chapter Sixteen: (In)Security

* * *

Rusty woke early with a crick in his neck and cold pizza in his hand. Mmm. Not his favourite combination. He rubbed his neck and looked at the pizza. Breakfast was rarely this immediate.

So much to do, he thought, as he stood up and absent-mindedly ate the pizza. Matty Remick this afternoon, he decided as he headed to the shower. And he needed to start on the warehouse this morning but that would be after the other thing that he needed to do.

* * *

Saul wasn't staying at the Bellagio. It didn't make sense for Lyman Zerga to be there before he needed to be there. It didn't make sense for him to be seen much around the three hotels at all which was why he ate in his room at the Mirage and kept a low profile.

Rusty knocked on his door and after an eternity, Saul opened it. He stood in the doorway in his pyjamas and bathrobe and looked at the two bags in Rusty's hands.

"Come on in."

Rusty slipped inside and shut the door. Saul's breakfast tray was on the side and it was barely touched. Even the stuff that would have set his ulcers off. Saul sat on the edge of the bed and motioned Rusty to the chair.

"I was about to have a bath," he announced with a tone that wasn't exactly hostile and wasn't exactly welcoming.

"I brought you bagels," Rusty offered and saw Saul waver. "Hot bagels with cream cheese. And proper coffee."

"I might manage a little something," Saul conceded.

The bags opened, they started on the food that reminded them both of another time and another place and a person who was no longer there.

"It won't work," Saul said eventually.

"What?" Rusty kept his tone the right side of innocent.

"This…" Saul waved a hand at the food. "I know Danny sent you."

Rusty stopped in mid-bite.

"What?" he said again, with more than a little confusion showing.

Saul sighed. "He's checking up on me, right?"

The frown on Rusty's face was completely genuine and Saul hesitated.

"This isn't…?"

"What's the matter, Saul?" Rusty asked, putting down the bagel, brushing the crumbs from his fingers and cutting to the chase.

Saul studied the half-eaten bagel in his hand and Rusty suddenly thought how very old he looked. In his head, Saul was stuck at about 45 years old. That was when he'd met him. That was how he'd looked when he'd met him. That was how he was when he'd met him. Full of life and energy and wisdom and Rusty suddenly saw the lines and the wrinkles and the age…the awful things that age did to a man…the things that age took away…the people that age took away… How many of Saul's friends were still around, he wondered. And the people who'd been neighbours to Saul and Annie… And Annie…

Saul gave a little sad smile.

"People don't come knocking like they used to, Rusty. I got out of the game and I said it was my health but really that was only part of it. My heart went out of it when Annie..." He looked up at Rusty. "I'm an old man, Robert. And I don't want to mess things up for the two of you by trying to play a young man's game."

"Saul…" Rusty shook his head. He looked fiercely at the man whom he thought of as the closest thing he had to a parent. "Saul, you are the best. How could we not want you on board? You think it's charity? You seriously think Danny or I would risk this job because of some misguided loyalty?"

"I don't know. I think you have some nice rosy-coloured memories of me in my hey-day."

"Who did this to you, Saul?" And Rusty's eyes were gimlet-sharp. "Who told you you weren't up to it?"

Saul couldn't hold his gaze. His eyes dropped to the floor.

"I did." It was barely a whisper.

Rusty said nothing. He just waited.

"Last big job I was on three years ago, I messed up. I blew it. Big time. I got away but one of the guys I was working with wasn't so lucky. Ended up looking like he'd been put through a mincing machine."

He looked over at Rusty.

"You think I want that to happen to Danny? You think I should want that to happen to you?" He sighed. "I shouldn't have come. I should have stayed at that damn dog track. You don't need me."

"You're wrong," Rusty said at once. He tried to put as much conviction into his voice as he could: it wasn't hard. He meant every word. "You're as wrong as you will ever be, Saul. We can't do this job without you. We need you alright."

"You won't say that when one or the other of you is being beaten to a pulp."

"Saul!" And there was anger and frustration wrapped up in that one name. "Listen to me! I would never lie to you. You are the best there is and there is no way that class won't tell in this heist."

It was the truth. The absolute truth and he knew Saul knew it. He could see it in Saul's face. Rusty got to his feet.

"Think about it, Saul."

And he left.

* * *

The warehouse was as he'd left it: he'd have been seriously worried if it hadn't. He did a mental roll call on who was going to stop by and assigned jobs in his head for each of them. Then he hung up his jacket and started work.

* * *

"You didn't call by. Got yourself another breakfast date?"

It was Danny. First to arrive and sounding a little surprised and a little put out. He straightened up.

"Went to see Saul."

Danny's face cleared.

_And?_

"He's got a few insecurity issues."

"He's what?" And Danny sounded as taken aback as he'd been in Saul's presence.

"Got burned on a job a little while back. Not personally but something somewhere got screwed and someone somewhere got beaten up. Saul says he was at fault."

"Doesn't want to screw this up." Danny was there at once.

"For anyone."

"For either of us."

"Not with Terry Benedict waiting."

There was a pause.

"He thinks-"

"-old times' sake-"

"-oh, he's so _wrong…_"

"You don't have to tell me."

There was another pause.

"Reuben and I are taking him to the tailors tomorrow."

"Costume."

"Exactly. I'll suggest-"

"-you need to do more than suggest-"

"-I'll ask."

Rusty nodded. That should do it. He smiled.

_What?_

"I bet you get Danielled."

* * *

The morning had flown by. Basher had dropped in and gone again, muttering about how hackneyed explosives disguised as jewels were. That had at least been the gist of what he'd said. The twins and Frank had arrived and worked and disappeared to see a man about two vans. Some bets had been taken as to Frank's final price and Frank had smiled because he liked a challenge. Rusty left Livingston and Yen carefully laying the flooring under Danny's supervision.

* * *

Matty Remick worked out of Vegas. That in itself was a blessing. He was also genial and discreet and so widely connected that no one was ever going to lean on him. Which was also a blessing.

The uniforms were meant to be destroyed. They were meant to be incinerated. But even those in authority liked to make a little on the side, no questions asked, thank you very much. The auction was being held in Dallas but they had sound and vision and Matty had a hotline through to the auctioneer and the deal was done at less than Rusty had budgeted for even allowing for the percentage Matty would be billing as intermediary. Which was also a blessing because Reuben would be pleased.

"They'll be delivered over the weekend," Matty confirmed.

"I'll drop by Sunday."

"Pleasure doing business with you, Mr Ryan."

"Likewise, Matty, likewise."

He got back into his car and nodded. Another thing off the list. Only the hundred and one other things to go. Plus the damn ballast. Rusty sighed. It was going to be another late night.


	17. Chapter 17 Ballast

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Disclaimer: no Ocean's character is mine.

A/N: oh, look. I'm as surprised about it as you are. :)

Chapter Seventeen: Ballast

* * *

Hours melded into hours. It was the next day and yet it could have been the day after or the day after that. Time was being its usual fluid self. Rusty supposed he had actually been back to his hotel room, that there had actually been time spent away from the warehouse but he wouldn't swear to it.

As it was, he had lunchtime memories of Danny pressing Coke and sandwich into his hand and he'd eaten and drunk and listened with half his mind to the account of Saul at the tailors.

"Good," he'd nodded when Danny had told him how Saul had reacted and all of him was relieved that Saul had regained his self-belief. The thought of Saul thinking for one second that either Danny or he would ever ask him for any reason other than the truth – that he was the best – was laughable.

His thoughts were still busy in a hundred different places as the afternoon progressed and he joked and smiled with Frank and Bash and the twins and all the time he was aware of dark eyes watching him. Dark eyes that were never fooled and he knew that right now they were weighing up whether or not the level to which Rusty was pushing himself was beyond the usual state of play. Debating whether or not to intercede. Wondering whether or not they ought to risk the reaction intervention would produce.

He gave it a while and then he pursed his lips and stared defiantly back.

_What? You think after all this time I can't handle the pressure?_

And that earned him an exasperated sigh and a roll of the eyes and then Danny had disappeared into the afternoon sunshine.

He'd watched him go and almost started after him, almost called after him, because there had been an edge to it that he hadn't meant. But the demons of doubt started to nag at him and he turned back to the warehouse and ran his fingers down his eyes and face and brought his hands together, resting his chin on them in silent prayer that the gods of ingenuity and scrupulous detail were going to smile on him as they always did.

And the hours continued to fade, taking with them the one resource which he could never acquire more of.

* * *

Even though he himself was excluded from the bets, Frank had cut an excellent deal with the vans from "Billy Tim Denham "like the jean"" and Yen had nodded and beamed as he had collected his winnings.

Now, the vans were busy being stripped of all identifying marks internally and externally ready for the respray. The Malloys were in their element.

"Guys, these are what you're aiming for."

Rusty handed over the shots of the SWAT van and hesitated just for a split second because part of him wanted to make completely sure that they weren't going to end up with a SMAT van instead. Then he scolded himself because the brothers could be trusted. He stretched minutely and was startled to find he was hungry. Hunger never snuck up on him quite so unannounced.

"Gonna grab a bite," he said to two pairs of legs, one under each vehicle and received vague noises in reply.

"I'll be back in an hour or so," he added and left the Malloys to it.

* * *

His phone rang as he stepped on to the street.

"Have you eaten?"

The question came abruptly before he could say a word and he bit back on anything flip because he heard the concern and he knew that although he'd taken himself away, Danny really hadn't left the warehouse. He also knew that he himself had been forgiven. And he hadn't spent so long away from Danny that he wanted to put any unnecessary extra distance between them.

"On my way to do so."

"Shall I meet you at Solly's?"

"Actually I was headed to a place called the Hungry Groundhog. It serves a mean milkshake."

He heard the unvoiced sigh and then "It's close to the Bellagio, isn't it?"

"On the Strip. You can't miss it."

"No. It's the one with the giant-sized gopher that would give Bill Murray nightmares."

Rusty grinned and deep within his subconscious, deep down and buried, a little flash of memory crackled into life and started to make its way upward.

* * *

Danny was waiting outside and reading the windows when he arrived.

"Seems to me that no matter what the town, you can find the places with the least appealing menus in forty seconds flat."

"You getting fussy on me in your old age?"

"Less of the old," Danny chided, holding the door open. "And I've always been fussy, you just never noticed."

"I just never cared," Rusty corrected him.

They took a booth down the side and the waitress handed both of them a menu to peruse.

"There is nothing on here that isn't fried," Danny muttered after a moment.

Silence.

"Not that that is a downside as far as you're concerned." Danny flicked to the back and studied the drinks and desserts page.

Silence.

"I swear if they deepfried candy you'd still eat…" Danny looked up sharply.

Rusty's gaze was fixed on the front of the unopened menu. Danny turned his own over to look at the garish picture of a groundhog in an apron flipping burgers out on to a plate.

Rusty's eyes were looking straight through the menu.

"Rus…?"

Nothing.

"Rusty?" With a note of urgency.

He blinked and looked at Danny and started to grin inanely.

"We gotta go."

"Don't you want to wait for the food that's going to take you to an early grave?"

Rusty was standing up already. "Food can wait."

Danny looked as though he might just faint.

* * *

They'd walked briskly back to the Bellagio and Danny had been silent as Rusty nodded to himself and as Rusty's lips moved without sound while swirls of thought painted themselves on to canvas in his head.

Back in Rusty's room, Rusty went immediately to the schematics of the vault.

"See," he said, unfurling them over the bed. "No way down."

"No, no," Danny agreed, going with the flow.

"But…" Rusty rooted amongst the paperwork and found another plan with which he overlaid that of the vault. "See…"

Danny stared and saw and smiled then stared at Rusty.

_Tell me._

"Groundhog," Rusty said, eyes alight now he'd found the answer. "First night."

"Yen," Danny nodded. "Tunnel."

"I never put these two together," Rusty shook his head at the plans and at himself. "But it'll work, won't it?"

Danny looked at the sensors that only a brilliant technician could temporarily disable and at the tiny internal pathways that only a skilled contortionist could fit through and that led to an inspection panel at the foot of the lift shaft that only a man intent on robbing a vault would remove knowing behind it lay bags of worthless paper.

Rusty's grin was wide with relief and confidence and adrenaline and he rolled down on to the bed, sighing happily.

"You can call me a genius at any time," he suggested.

Danny looked down at him and couldn't hide the answering grin. "That's what I love about you."

"The fact that I am a genius?"

"Your unassuming nature."

"Must be from hanging around with you."

"Must be," Danny smiled. His tone became business-like. "So."

"So." Rusty sat up. "Need to collect the flyers first."

_Flyers?_

"Cotton Candy and her friends," Rusty explained and Danny chuckled. "Then I'll need Livingston and Yen to work their magic."

"Not too soon," Danny warned.

"No. Thursday will be best. It's tight but any earlier and we risk discovery and later and we won't have time."

"Right."

Rusty nodded, already seeing the distractions necessary to get Yen and the canvas bags and the flyers into the infrastructure. He yawned suddenly.

Danny pulled the plans off the bed.

"Get some sleep, Rus."

"No," Rusty fought the tiredness. "I've got to get back to the warehouse. The twins are working on the vans."

"I'll sort out the twins," Danny promised and Rusty looked up at him with eyes that were suddenly swamped with fatigue.

"Sleep, Rusty," Danny instructed and Rusty found he couldn't argue.


	18. Chapter 18 Something

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Disclaimer: own no part of the Ocean's world. Which is probably like "Waterworld" but a better film.

Chapter Eighteen: Something

* * *

Sometime between Rusty falling asleep and waking up, Danny had pulled his shoes off and managed to remove his tie and jacket before throwing the duvet over him. He'd also closed down the warehouse and returned and left the keys on the bedside table. Rusty hadn't been aware of any of it.

Yawning, Rusty stretched lazily and smiled. He had slept better than he had done in ages, even before Danny had walked into a poker game and back into his life. Even after. The ballast. The exit strategy. He had an answer. Finally. And the relief covered him like the duvet, warm and comforting. Nothing was certain, of course, nothing was set. There were still a hundred ways that things could go wrong and a hundred ways that Terry Benedict could seek revenge. Although he was fairly certain that if Benedict caught up with them, revenge would not be that complicated.

Revenge would be in the middle of the night with all of them lined up and taken down one by one. And if Benedict had done his homework, Danny and he would have to stand and watch. Stand and watch as one by one, the others had a gun put to their temple and its trigger pulled and they fell face forward into the dirt of the desert.

Linus, fresh-faced and blue-eyed and scared. Yen, impenetrable and vocal. Then Basher, then Frank, then Livingston, then the Malloys… God, he hoped that the guns would ring out together for the twins. And then Reuben, with a look of indignation and surprise and then Saul… Rusty gave a small, unguarded moan. Saul…

And it would come down to Danny and him. And they would lock down all the pain and the horror of what they'd witnessed and they would keep the final and the unspoken off their faces and they would never give Benedict the satisfaction of seeing the agony.

Him first. Because Danny was always more in the foreground than he was. There was always more attention focused on Danny. Yes, it would almost certainly be him first. And the thought of the look on Danny's face as the world went dark hurt so much that any relief he was feeling ran right out through him.

* * *

Rusty's phone was ringing as he came out of the shower.

"You up?"

"Nah. You've reached a recording. Where are you?"

"On my way to Carson City."

Right. The rappelling lines. The glo-sticks.

"You burying yourself in the warehouse?"

"Yeah. Vault doors. Gonna make sure Livingston's got what he needs for the electronic side of things. Probably check in with Frank and Bash."

"Busy day."

"Not enough hours. Never are. The Malloys OK last night?"

"They were agreeing to disagree, I think. Vans are looking good."

"Good. See you later."

"Later."

* * *

The vans _were_ looking good. The love of all things vehicular that ran in the veins of both Malloys was never more in evidence than in the care that they were taking with the vans.

And Rusty knew that pride in one's work was what all of them shared. None of them settled for second best and all of them were talented and possibly – probably – it was easy for those who didn't know them to underestimate that talent. Easy to write Livingston off as a bag of nerves or Basher as a man with an unlucky streak or Saul as a has-been. Easy for people to write him off, come to that. People had. People did. People saw the one-dimension and their eyes glided over the shiny surface and dismissed the idea that anything of depth could lie beneath. He liked being overlooked. He liked staying underneath the radar. It kept the advantage in his court.

* * *

By the time it was early evening and Danny arrived at the warehouse, a day of effort and hard work had seen the vans almost finished, the pieces of the vault doors nearly ready for assembly and Rusty on his own. Danny nodded approval and Rusty allowed the grin to show.

_Glad it passes muster._

"Where's everyone?"

"Frank's working, Turk and Virgil needed an early night-"

"Actually, don't bother. Just get your coat."

Rusty raised an eyebrow. "I've still got-"

"You've got nothing except a dinner date with me."

"You're being very masterful."

Danny grinned. "I so am. Dinner's out at Reuben's with Saul."

Rusty looked round the warehouse. "I suppose we're on schedule…"

"Suppose nothing. Food by Dominic. Wine and whisky courtesy of Reuben's high standards. Reminiscences from Saul."

It sounded good. Very good. Too good. Rusty looked again at Danny.

"What's the occasion?"

There was something…something that he could almost swear was there…and then Danny's grin just got wider.

"This time next week we are going to be stealing the world out from underneath Terry Benedict's nose. We are going to be making off with everything he cares about."

"Celebrating early?" It was unheard of. It was stupid. It was unlucky. And it wasn't Danny.

"No." Danny was definite. "Just that the run up is going to be intense – more intense than this week's been – and that the other side, we're probably not going to be meeting up together any time soon."

That was true. That was just good sense.

"So, this is…"

"This is just dinner. With old friends. While we can."

There was still something. Something he couldn't pin down… And then Rusty wondered suddenly if Danny's thoughts had also been turning to an ending other than the one they wanted, other than the one that they had planned. And that would make this dinner…

"You're just an old romantic, aren't you?"

_I've been known._

Rusty rolled down his sleeves and picked up his jacket.

"How'd you get on in Carson City?"

"Fine," Danny said easily. There was a pause. "You sure that line's going to hold me?"

"With your weight?" Rusty gave a mock-shrug and ignored the glare. "One way to find out."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

* * *

Dinner was as delicious as Dominic could make it. The alcohol was of the highest quality. And now they were sitting in the warm evening round the pool and the stories were flowing thick and fast.

"You remember the job with the Chihuahua?" Saul said.

"Oh, the Chihuahua…" Danny rolled his eyes.

For Reuben's benefit, Rusty elaborated.

"Had to have a distraction to get past the guards to get into the room to get to the safe-"

"-that was in the house that Jack built," Saul finished impatiently. "Of all things, they decided on a Chihuahua."

"They're proper little dogs," Rusty pointed out. "This one was called-"

"-Toodles." Danny's voice was heavy. "Shit, I'd forgotten about Toodles."

"Well, shit's the operative word," Rusty nodded.

"If you hadn't given the damn dog the tailend of your takeaway-"

"-it was hungry!"

"It was a dog! With a very weak stomach!"

"Danny had to carry Toodles," Saul explained as Reuben puffed on a cigar, amusement writ large on his face. "Inside his jacket."

"Inside my _jacket_."

"He was supposed to put Toodles down to run round and get under people's feet. That was plan A. But let's just say with plan B, he didn't have to try too hard for the distraction."

"Distraction worked beautifully," Rusty beamed.

"That thing was evil," Danny said with feeling. "Evil and ratlike. And with a poor constitution."

"Never work with children and animals," Saul nodded sagely.

"Now that's a fair point," Reuben agreed. "My cousin's boy Farley just made it through customs before asking Daddy if they'd got away with it. Customs hauled Daddy back in and he had to explain the suitcase full of jewellery and watches. Meanwhile, they bought Farley an ice-cream."

"Just the one?" Rusty shook his head. "Man, if I was going to sell out family, I'd want a whole freezer."

Reuben reached for the whisky and topped up the drinks.

"Family's nice," he said quietly.

"Family's important," Saul nodded.

Rusty stretched back in his chair, glass of whisky held loosely in his fingers and gazed up at the stars.

"Family's what you make it," he said.

He could feel Danny's gaze on him and he twisted his head round so that he could look at him. Danny was staring at him and the something was there again. Even with the warmth and the comfort and the pleasure of the evening, the something was there. Like Danny was…like he was afraid of something… And though there'd been plenty of alcohol drunk, he could still read the hesitation and the worry and the…the _fear_… He didn't like any of what he was reading.

_What?_

_Later._

Rusty allowed a glimmer of a frown and promised himself there would indeed be a later.

"Vault's looking good," Danny said, changing the subject. "And the vans are practically done."

"Suits arrive Monday," Reuben said.

"Lyman Zerga is booking in on Tuesday," Saul confirmed.

"Don't you lose too much of my money on the blackjack tables," Reuben warned.

Saul looked affronted.

"What do you take me for, infidel?" Lyman Zerga asked. "I intend to win and win big. We Zergas do not know the meaning of the word "lose"!"

* * *

They left Reuben's and Danny drove them back to the Bellagio. Rusty left it till they were out on the open road.

"It's later now," he said and waited.

Danny's eyes didn't leave the road and Rusty could see there was some sort of inner battle going on. And then there was a sigh and silence. He continued to wait. Because silence was powerful.

"Family's something to lose," Danny said eventually and Rusty thought he understood exactly what the something eating Danny was.

"You're not going to lose. Anything. Anyone."

Danny's gaze was still on the road.

"I hope you're more right about that than that Chihuahua's digestive system."

"That worked too. Even with the change of plan."

And this time Danny did glance over to him.

"That's right. We made it work."

In the words, Rusty could hear a need for reassurance. A need to hear that Benedict would not beat them. That curveballs could be handled. That there would not be dusty death.

"Even if this plan needs to be changed, we'll still make it work. It's what we do."

"Yeah," Danny nodded as they pulled in to the Bellagio car park. "Going with the flow."

He looked again at Rusty.

_Whatever?_

_Whatever._

It was an easy promise for Rusty to make. Because even when Danny's plans twisted out of their original shape, even when his own eye for detail was compromised by some unknown factor, there were always ways and means and he and Danny could always find a way. Whatever.


	19. Chapter 19 Details

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Disclaimer: oh, if I owned anything to do with the Ocean's trilogy, I'd be trying to persuade them to make a spin off.

Chapter Nineteen: Details

* * *

Matty Remick had been true to his word. The SWAT uniforms had arrived safely and been collected and Sunday afternoon saw Rusty busy sorting through them at the warehouse.

"I'm going to fit into that?"

Saul's voice was disbelieving behind him. Rusty smiled and turned round.

"You'll manage."

"If I have time for liposuction between now and Saturday," Saul muttered.

"They alright?" Danny asked, strolling in.

"They're fine," Rusty confirmed. "We have a couple of alterations to make."

"He's trying to tell you politely that they didn't have my size," Saul translated.

"I am trying to tell you we have a couple of alterations to make," Rusty corrected. "Some taking up, some taking in."

"Some letting out," Saul added glumly.

"And who's going to do the altering?" Danny wanted to know.

_You feeling like volunteering?_

_You want them to fit?_

"I'm going to see when Jo-Jo has a night off." He looked at Danny's raised eyebrows. "What? She makes all her own outfits, remember?"

Danny's mind was casting itself back fifteen years or so.

"Even the-"

"-oh, definitely. With the sequins-"

"-the _pink_ sequins-"

"-and the beading-"

"-the _silver _beading-"

"Yeah. Silver."

There was a happy silence of youth and remembrance.

"Well, let's see the vault," Danny suggested.

* * *

Saul wandered forward on to the tiles and squinted at where the doors were going to be.

"This is quite impossible. You two do know that?"

They stood, side by side, arms folded, smiling.

"Did you know that?" Rusty shot a mock frown at Danny.

"I think you should have told me."

"This is my fault?"

"It's always your fault."

"Except when it's yours."

"It's never mine."

"It's _usually _yours."

"I can't believe you said that."

"You telling me there's something wrong with your imagination?"

"You're questioning my-"

"Please!" Saul was facing the pair of them with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Listen to the two of you! Back and forth like you're Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid! Remember how that ended!"

Rusty leaned to his right.

"I'm the Kid, right?"

Danny moved his head toward him.

"Since Butch was the one with the brains-"

"Hey, the Kid had the style. And the talent. Plus he got the girl."

"Neither of them got the girl," Danny corrected, turning to face him.

"Enough!"

"Sorry, Saul," they muttered and stood looking suitably chastened.

"Stop that as well," Saul scowled. "It didn't work on me when you were starting out and it sure as hell doesn't work on me now."

"Sorry, Saul," they muttered again and looked at him sheepishly.

Saul shook his head at them.

"It's just…it could get tricky you know?"

They stared at him. He had the look of a man who had been doing a lot of thinking and not all of it happy thoughts.

"You're not sorry you came, are you, Saul?" Rusty asked, suddenly wondering.

"We will make it work," Danny added.

"Whatever."

"Whatever."

Saul was silent for a moment.

"I know you will-" he began.

"-_we_ will-" they corrected him, including everyone in the pronoun because this was an ensemble effort.

He looked from one to the other.

"I only came 'cos it was you two," he said gruffly. Then, as they started grinning, he added, "Someone has to keep you in line."

* * *

Danny came with him to the Crazy Horse Too and the same hostess was on duty.

"Back again, handsome? Do you want Charmaine again?" Her eyes roamed approvingly over Danny. "Did you bring me someone to play with?"

Rusty smiled.

"Actually, my friend and I wondered if Jo-Jo was available."

"Jo-Jo?" The pout was embryonic but definitely there.

"Please."

Danny's smile was at full beam and the dazzle was broad on Rusty's face and the hostess did a double take.

"Su-sure…"

And wide-eyed and stunned, she led the way.

* * *

Unlike her daughter, Jo-Jo was instantly recognisable. And not just because of the outfit. Rusty thought he'd done her a disservice by imagining she was past her prime. Her face held a few more lines and her hair was a startling shade of unnatural red but her figure was still good and her eyes were still sparkling and when she saw the pair of them, she let out a huge squeal of delight.

"Hello, boys! Though it's really "hello, men"," she corrected herself, looking them over. "Charmaine said she'd seen you, Rusty. Oh, boys! Oh, I can't hug you!"

She shook her head in exasperation at the club rules.

"Are you due a break, Jo-Jo?" Danny asked.

"Not least because we'd like the hug."

She grinned.

"I'll see you in the alleyway round the back in five," she said, heading off and then threw a warning over her shoulder. "Don't speak to Crazy Dave."

_Did she really need to say that?_

Danny shrugged. "To be fair, you probably would."

* * *

The alleyway was dimly lit and full of transactional business. They stepped past couples and skirted round drug deals and headed towards the back door of the club.

From out of the shadows, a bearded man in a silver jumpsuit accosted them.

"Do you want to know where the aliens live among us?"

Intrigued, Rusty stopped and then felt Danny's arm on his elbow, pushing him forward. He flashed an apologetic smile at the beard and the jumpsuit and they moved on.

_I wanted to hear…_

"You can stop the pout. If he isn't Crazy Dave-"

"He might not have been. You're just going by appearances. You shouldn't judge a book by its cover."

Danny threw a glance over the violet shirt next to him.

"Don't think I could _ever_ be accused of that."

Jo-Jo appeared, wrapped up in a short silk dressing gown and promptly threw her arms around both their necks and dragged them into a kind of threeway hug.

"It's been too long! Let me look at you."

She took a step back and held their hands and studied them.

"You both got prettier. Handsomer. Prettier." She sighed. "I can't believe it's been as long as it has."

"It's good to see you too, Jo-Jo," Danny said.

"It's very good to see you," Rusty added.

Jo-Jo's eyes narrowed.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"Jo-Jo!"

"We're wounded."

"Mortified."

"As if."

"Forget it," Jo-Jo advised good-humouredly. "Just tell me."

They exchanged a brief glance and a semi-shrug and a _Be my guest._

"You got a night off anytime soon?" Rusty asked.

"Tomorrow. Why?"

"Can we call by?" Danny asked.

"Sure!" then, "Why?" then, "I should have asked that first, shouldn't I?"

"Need help with a little needlework."

Jo-Jo laughed.

"You want sequins on that shirt?"

"You could do that?"

"No, she couldn't."

_Spoilsport._

"Come on round about eight. I'll have some Mississippi Mud Pie waiting."

And Rusty let out a happy sigh.

* * *

On their way back to the Bellagio, Rusty's phone rang.

"Hey, Linus."

"Hi, Rusty. Rusty, can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

There was a pause.

"I guess I did. Can I ask you something else?"

"You just did."

There was another pause.

"Right."

Rusty waited.

"Benedict is having an out of town meeting tomorrow, leaving early, arriving back late and is there anything I can do tomorrow to help because I think I will have some free time on my hands?"

The words were rapid-fire as if Linus wanted to get the whole thing out before Rusty interrupted.

Eyes alight, Rusty looked at Danny who was already shaking his head at him.

"Sure, kid. Pop by my room in half an hour."

* * *

Linus arrived, chewing gum and slightly apprehensive.

"Where's Benedict going?" Danny asked.

Linus shrugged. "Something to do with the new casino and hotel he's working on. Something that won't come to him. Something top secret."

_Top secret?_

_Maybe he's James Bond._

Linus was frowning. "I think it's an interior designer in New York."

Neither of them raised their eyebrows but both of them wanted to.

"A very in designer," Linus went on. "Very chi-chi."

_Chi-chi?_

_Isn't that a panda?_

"And you think this because…?" Danny wondered aloud gently.

"Couple of calls he made. And a magazine he was reading. And I got a copy of the magazine and it was all about this designer that likes to be wooed."

_I like that too._

_Wooed not rude._

"And then he's booked on a flight to JFK. I figure he's going to NYC."

"Well, that all sounds-"

"-very plausible. Well done, Linus," Danny approved.

Linus flushed and a smile appeared and then disappeared and he looked at Rusty who nodded. The smile reappeared.

"So you have a free day."

"Yeah."

Rusty held out his left hand and turned it over as if he were performing a magic trick and wanted Linus to see that there was nothing hidden. With a sharp snap, he produced a colourful card with contact details and a lurid picture of Christie, unclothed and full-chested. Linus blushed.

"We need lots of these, Linus. You think you can source them for us?"

"Lots?" The anxiety was back on Linus's face. "How many is lots?"

"Enough to fill several holdalls."

"Right. Lots."

"That's what I said."

"Wait a minute…" Linus looked suspicious. "We really need these?"

Rusty chuckled. "We really do."

"You're not…joshing me?"

_Joshing? Does anyone still say that?_

"No, Linus. We need them," Danny said gravely.

"Although, of course, if we were joshing you, that's what we would say."

Linus looked from one to the other and then reached out and took the card.

"Take them to the warehouse?"

"That's right," Rusty agreed.

"Tomorrow?"

"Or sooner," Danny nodded.

"OK." Linus seemed to make his mind up. "You can trust me. I'll sort it."

Danny waited till the door had closed behind him.

"You are planning on telling him to pick up boxes in bulk from the printers rather than trail round every phone box he can find, aren't you?"

Rusty tried but failed to look innocent.

"You are never going to heaven."

"You think they're gonna let you in?"

"I was planning on climbing over the gate when St Peter wasn't looking."

"Hmm. You'd need a distraction."

"Well, if you're with me that isn't a problem."

"Because I could keep St Peter occupied?"

Danny nodded. "Just with the wrongness of the shirt alone."


	20. Chapter 20 Alteration

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Disclaimer: I did not write the movie. I did not create the characters. Do I look rich and talented?

A/N: slightly angsty chapter which is unusual for this fic.

Chapter Twenty: Alteration

* * *

Linus had impressed. Boxes of flyers were neatly stacked against the wall of the warehouse and Rusty saw Danny's eyebrows raise in approval when he walked in.

"Boy done good," Rusty acknowledged.

"We'll have to tell Bobby."

"Maybe not the full details. He may think we're leading him astray."

_Isn't that a given?_

_You think we should be offended if he doesn't?_

"How are we doing?"

Rusty weighed up everything in his head.

"OK…for Monday…"

It was Monday evening and Monday evening saw the vault nearly finished. The floor was laid, the vault doors had slid into place - and he could only hope that the real ones would slide open as easily - and the racks were waiting to be adorned with chips and money. Only before the set could be dressed, Livingston had to set up the lighting and the monitors and the pseudo-laser alarms. And Livingston was as precise and demanding of perfection as Rusty could wish him to be. Only he really wished Livingston could find the perfection and find it fast. The clock was ticking.

Danny was stood alongside him and they watched Livingston wandering around, talking to himself and brandishing a gadget at the corners of the room.

"A light meter," Danny said airily.

Rusty looked at him levelly.

_What?_

"That's what you'd call it even if that wasn't what it was called."

"It is what it's called." And Danny sounded mostly confident on that score.

Rusty let the amusement play over his face then checked his watch.

"How much longer, Livingston?" he asked evenly with no visible hint of hurry.

Livingston sighed.

"I think…I think I need to finish up tomorrow, Rus. I don't think this is functioning completely accurately." He smacked the light meter against his palm in a suspiciously non-technical way. "I want to pick up another one and cross-check."

"OK, Livingston," Rusty nodded. "See you in the morning."

Livingston gone, he and Danny gathered the uniforms that needed altering.

"You ready?" Danny asked.

"You kidding? There's gonna be dessert."

* * *

Jo-Jo was waiting. Outside of the club, she wore her hair tied back with no make-up and she dressed in jeans and a sweater. With the benefit of perspective and age, Rusty thought she looked miles sexier off duty.

"C'mon in, boys, make yourselves at home."

They walked into the front room that hadn't changed in forever. Beaded curtains and a lava lamp and beanbags and a leather couch that definitely sagged in the middle.

Before they could say a word, Jo-Jo defended the couch.

"It's taken me years but I've just broken it in. It and I are comfortable together."

"We can see that," Danny nodded, sitting at one end.

"That much was obvious," Rusty agreed, sitting on the other.

Jo-Jo took the uniforms from their arms.

"You got the measurements?"

Rusty fished a list out of his pocket.

"Is Charmaine around?" Danny asked.

"Rachel," Jo-Jo corrected, dropping the overalls on the floor next to a little table with a sewing machine. "Charmaine at work and Rachel at home. Nah, she's on shift tonight."

"She's turned out very pretty," Rusty said sincerely and saw Jo-Jo's eyes soften.

"Best mistake I ever made, that kid. She's smart too. Gonna take herself off to college. We got a little fund going, she and me. Don't want her to end up strutting her stuff when she's past forty like her mother."

She grimaced.

"That made me sound sorry for myself and I'm not." She waved a hand. "You know what I mean."

They did. And there was nothing wrong with wanting your child to achieve and flourish. And Jo-Jo didn't know it but there was silent agreement without either of them turning their heads or looking at each other in any way that after the job the college fund should get a little boost.

Jo-Jo found a pair of glasses and perched them on her nose, peering at Rusty's figures.

"This is going to take a couple of hours. You want to call back?"

Rusty's bottom lip moved. Infinitesimally. Jo-Jo grinned.

"I'll take that as a no. Hit the cable, Danny. Rusty, you know your way around the kitchen. I've got beers and pizza and I made pie. You think that'll keep you busy while I'm busy?"

* * *

They had eaten pizza and drunk beer and found "Cat People" playing and now, courtesy of the dip in the couch, they had slid together and sat shoulder to shoulder companionably with bowls of chocolate dessert while Jo-Jo and the sewing machine were chatting and whirring in the background.

Rusty licked the spoon and studied his empty dish. It had been a second helping. And a third would be-

_Here. _

Danny swapped bowls.

"Aren't you going to tell me I really shouldn't?"

"When has that ever stopped you from doing anything?"

_True._

He had just laid down his spoon contentedly when Jo-Jo straightened up.

"There. Finished."

She glanced over at them.

"Just because I haven't asked doesn't mean I don't want to know."

"Jo-Jo," Danny began and she held up a hand.

"I do want to know. Because I know it'll be wonderful and daring and brilliant and probably something you should never be doing in a million years. Boys, I remember how you two were before. You think I've forgotten Andrew Lancheck's Cadillac being resprayed? Or those high-rollers who busted up Anthea and you turned them over in that high stakes game you couldn't possibly win?"

She folded the last uniform and added it to the neat pile.

"I know it'll be a good story. And," as Rusty opened his mouth to speak, "I know you can't tell me. But it will come out eventually and I will be so proud of you. Oh, boys…"

They were on their feet now and she grabbed them both in a fierce embrace.

"You look after yourselves," she insisted. "You look after one another. And be careful."

"We will," Danny promised.

"We always do," Rusty added.

A wad of cash appeared in his hand and Jo-Jo looked offended.

"Please. You think I did this for money?"

"We know why you did it," Rusty smiled.

"We love you for the why," Danny told her.

"But this is for the fund."

"For Rachel."

"For her future."

Jo-Jo's face hesitated between a scowl and exasperation and then she took the money and sighed.

"You two never play fair."

Clutching the uniforms, they kissed her on the cheek and made their goodbyes.

As they climbed into the car, Danny said, "Hundred thousand?"

"Should see her comfortably through college. Why don't we make it two?"

"In case Jo-Jo wants to become a mature student?"

"Or buy the club owner out."

"Yeah."

* * *

Rusty laid face first on Danny's bed, various mini bar snacks arranged in front of him, lost in contemplation. Danny was stretched out beside him, randomly channel hopping.

"You can't still be hungry."

"Is that a command?"

"It's a comment. Seriously, what is it with your metabolism?"

Rusty gave him a look.

"As it happens, I am not hungry. I am just planning for the future and taking pre-emptive measures."

"You're taking the contents of my mini bar."

"They never restock mine. We could just move rooms, you know."

"We could. Because it obviously really matters whose room is whose."

Rusty looked at him again.

"You want any of this?"

"I might."

"You don't even like some of this. What possible use is it going to be to you?"

And then he saw a flicker of something that was there and then gone in Danny's eyes.

"I'm only kidding, Rus, take what you need."

And that was quiet and pointless because he already knew that Danny was kidding and he was already going to take what he needed. He looked intently at Danny who didn't want the stare but who stood up to it, his chin tilting upwards slightly.

It was a four years thing. It was a prison thing. It was a thing that they had pushed aside in favour of the job and more importantly the being alive and the being together.

"Currency," Rusty said eventually.

Danny flicked a half-smile. "You'd have been bankrupt."

"Tell me." _Please._

Danny hesitated and Rusty understood the hesitation. Because it was the past and irrecoverable time. But that didn't mean there weren't things Danny wanted – needed to talk about. To share. And just because he instinctively knew that Danny's time inside had been free of major incident, there were still minor incidents in there. There had to be.

Danny's eyes grew distant.

"Young kid. 'Bout Linus's age. More street smarts than Linus. Tough and not afraid on the outside and inside not so sure of himself."

"Cellmate?"

"Guard."

Rusty nodded understanding. Danny's interest in people was never going to be limited by imposed lines.

"I liked him," Danny said. "You know, on principle. There's a mood in prison, Rusty. Like you can reach out and touch it. A prison's happy or it's on edge and there's little in between and it doesn't take much to take it from one place to the other. Guards need to be able to read it. This kid could read it. He was fair. He let little misdemeanours ride and he clamped down quickly on sparks before they could grow up and become forest fires."

"What happened?"

Danny's mouth set in a straight line.

"Bad judgment call. Cell inspections. Guy called Razor Harris had a mattress full of contraband. Tobacco, cigarettes, candy, magazines. Too much to ignore."

"But he should have done."

Danny closed his eyes.

"He wasn't nicknamed Razor for nothing."

Silence reigned.

"Did he…"

"No." Danny opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. "He just slashed him up." He laughed mirthlessly. "Just. Ripped his face apart and took away an ear."

Rusty reached over and squeezed his shoulder and Danny's hand clutched his. Rusty waited and hoped whatever was coming wasn't as bad as he thought it was going to be.

"I saw it happen." Danny's voice was a whisper. "I saw it happen. And so did other inmates and so did other guards. No one wanted to get involved. In case they got hurt. Only thing that stopped Razor was a two hundred and eighty pound guard called Samson."

He looked at Rusty.

"I tried. Honestly, I tried."

Rusty nodded. Danny would want to. If it was someone he liked.

"They held me back. The guards. The ones who liked me told me not to be such an idiot."

"What about the ones who didn't have you on their Christmas card list?"

There was a pause.

"Made me watch." Whispered and reluctant.

And Rusty saw the pain of the memory in Danny's eyes and he thought of other times and other pain that they had been through together and he tightened his grip and felt Danny's fingers lock round his.

"Danny." There was a question.

"Rus." And there was an answer.

Rusty settled next to him. He was staying with him. Tonight, for certain, and Terry Benedict and any other surprises fate wanted to throw at them willing, for as long as forever.

* * *

A/N: So. Hope that was OK. It's generally such a sunny little number but it decided it wanted to be slightly otherwise with this chapter. Sorry.


	21. Chapter 21 Tess

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Disclaimer: oh, I did not write Ocean films of any number.

A/N: Er, this took a while. Wanted to get the one-shot "Tess" written first. Sorry. Am all things useless.

Chapter Twenty-one: Tess

* * *

Tuesday flew by.

Rusty watched as the lighting issues in the warehouse were resolved and then checked that Livingston and Yen were set for Thursday's little distraction. He helped Frank finish the vault doors and made sure they were lifted into place successfully. Lunch was a catch-up with Saul, ready to share Lyman Zerga with the world. There was a ten minute phonecall with Basher during the afternoon peppered with expressions that Rusty was mostly unfamiliar with and that he was almost certain were not to be repeated in polite company.

The carts and the racking were all set to lend authenticity to the fake out. Gambling chips and shrink-wrapped fake bills were waiting to be insinuated into the picture. The cameras were ready to roll.

By the time Danny appeared early evening at the warehouse, Rusty felt that if things weren't zip-a-dee-do-dah already then it was only a matter of time before that bluebird landed on his shoulder.

"Heading over to the Bellagio," he said as Danny studied proceedings. "Turk and Virgil should be in place with Saul and they'll be arriving in half an hour. Give me chance to catch up with Linus too. Find out what Benedict's been up to."

"OK," Danny nodded, his eyes on the complex lasers that Livingston was trying to set up.

"Guess he made it back from New York."

"I guess."

"I'll see you later."

"I'll be here."

Looking back, Rusty would realise that Danny didn't look at him once.

* * *

Linus looked ridiculously pleased to see him and Rusty was amused and also a little guilty. They had handed Linus the detail nearly a week ago and they had trusted him to get on with it and thought that Linus would be (should be) gratified by that. But Linus still wanted to prove himself, to show that he had a rightful place on this job. And more than anything, he wanted to prove himself to Danny and Rusty.

Rusty settled down beside him.

"Saul's checking in," Rusty checked his watch, "in three minutes."

"It's showtime, then."

"It's nearly showtime," Rusty corrected. "Still time to pull out. Still time to adapt a plan."

"In case there's a screw-up?"

"Better a screw-up before the job than during."

Lyman Zerga strode purposefully past, followed by Turk and Virgil and Rusty watched with professional pleasure as Saul showed how it was done. Damn but the man was the epitome of a good con artist.

He turned his attention back to Linus. "OK, tell me about Benedict."

Eagerly, Linus began.

"That guy's a machine. He arrives at the Bellagio every day at 2pm. Same car, same driver. Remembers every valet's name on the way in. Not bad for a guy worth three quarters of a billion. Offices are upstairs, he works hard, hits the lobby floor at seven on the nose. Spends three minutes on the floor with his casino manager."

"What do they talk about?"

Linus reeled off Benedict's micromanagement style, his attention to detail, his fluency in languages, his love of routine and control. Linus sounded a little in awe of Benedict's traits: Rusty was less overwhelmed.

Rusty listened and absorbed and they moved through the hotel as Linus elaborated. A slow steady walk that moved them past guests and staff and gamblers and there was only a slight delay as Rusty paused to acquire some shrimp.

"What?" he asked as Linus looked at him bemusedly. "Helps people see you in the dark."

Linus's mouth opened and closed and as he digested the thought, Rusty walked away, eating shrimp. He took up residence in the main atrium and waited for Linus to join him.

"Yeah…well, anyway…" Linus said and his head turned and Rusty followed his gaze. Benedict was approaching. "Like I said. A machine."

Rusty's focus was on the black folder in Benedict's hands.

"That portfolio contains the codes to all the cage doors?"

"Mmm hmm," Linus agreed. "Two minutes after they've been changed, he's got them in his hand."

Rusty ate shrimp and thought about that. He'd been hoping for some sort of latitude but it seemed that a straightforward lift from Benedict was essential. Of course, the lift would be anything but straightforward. His mind started working on that even as Linus continued, full of nervous babble.

"I tell you, you guys really can pick 'em. This guy's as smart as he is ruthless. Last guy they caught cheating in here, he not only sent him up for ten years, he had the bank seize his house and then he bankrupted his-"

"-brother in law's tractor dealership." He gave Linus a look of pure amusement. He'd heard. "I heard."

"He doesn't just take out your knees. He goes after your livelihood and the livelihood of anybody you ever met."

Oh, Rusty wanted Danny there. So very, very badly. The kid was killing him.

"You scared?" he asked.

"You suicidal?"

He grinned at Linus. "Only in the morning. Now what?"

He dug into the shrimp. Linus turned his back on him and studied the staircase.

"Now comes the girl. She comes down after him if they're in a snit."

_Snit? Snit? _

"Where does she come from?" Rusty wondered aloud.

"Museum up there. She's the curator."

Curator. Museum. Culture in Las Vegas? Who'd have thought? And his subconscious was screaming at him.

"Here she is," Linus sighed. "This is just the best part of my day."

Mouthful of shrimp, Rusty peered at the top of the stairs, already thinking about running a Mata Hari when the girl appeared and a hundred thoughts exploded through him at once.

Tess.

It was Tess and that meant Danny…all along…way back at the damn architects, he'd known something was…

It was Tess, now the ex-Mrs Ocean, but Danny never liked letting things go if it wasn't on his terms…

It was Tess, let's not forget, Benedict's girl, Tess who was with Terry Benedict and Terry would probably let her go as easily as he would $160 million…

It was Tess, and Danny had already gone to prison once…

It was Tess.

He had the sense to turn away and hide his face in time as she swept past. He could hear Linus blithely saying, "I still don't know if we can use her, Actually I haven't even caught her name."

"Tess," he said flatly, appetite lost. "Her name is Tess,"

* * *

_Culture? In Vegas? _

"Idiot!" he muttered and Linus shrank away from him unsure whether Rusty meant him, not understanding that actually Rusty was thinking of both Danny and himself, unable to decide which of them was the more dull-witted.

They walked to the warehouse in silence, Rusty striding half a pace ahead of Linus, aware that Linus was flicking glances in his direction.

Rusty was tight-lipped, not daring himself to speak, flooded with memories.

"_I like her, Rusty, I like her a lot."_

"_What about--?" _

"_I'll have to have a rethink" _

_And Rusty feels his blood chill. _That _serious._

He marched down the sidewalk and the warehouse was nearly in sight.

_Long and lonely awaytime. Time that had seemed like the end of laughter and lightness and love._

The sidewalk flew away under his feet.

_He smiles at Tess and Tess smiles back. _

"_You must know lots about the skeletons in Danny's closet."_

"_More than you can possibly imagine."_

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Linus open his mouth and close it again.

_Danny answers the door. It takes one look for each of them to know._

"_You've been cheating on me."_

"_How did you find out?"_

Rusty's mouth twisted mirthlessly. How indeed?

"_It's necessary."_

_Dark eyes not meeting his._

"_It is necessary for you to work without me," he repeats, emphasising the last word and does not even try to hide the fury._

The warehouse loomed large.

"_Without me, who's going to watch your back?"_

"_I'll be careful."_

"_Who?" _

"_I'll be careful," Danny insists._

He'd said he'd be careful but he hadn't been careful enough. He'd got sloppy and Tess had found out and after what Rusty assumed was the mother of all rows although he could just as easily see it playing with a few biting words, she'd left him. Danny had gone ahead with the job anyway and the unthinkable had happened: he'd been caught. Justice had been swift and, given his past near-misses, as unsympathetic as Tess.

Danny's plans. All for nothing. Well, it wasn't happening this time.

* * *

He was as angry as he had ever been as he strode into the warehouse.

"We need to talk," he hissed at Danny.

"OK."

"Now."

Danny must have seen the fury in him for it was hard to miss. Danny's face was unreadable but he let himself be taken by the elbow and led outside, passing a bemused Linus on the way.

"Tell me this is not about her, or I am walking, I am walking off this job right now," Rusty began and he saw that Danny was considering stalling. His face tightened. How could Danny ever think that that would work?

"Who?"

"Tess," he snapped. "Terry Benedict. Tell me this is not about screwing the guy who's screwing your wife."

"Ex-wife."

"Tell me."

"It's not about that," Danny said reassuringly and with pointless deception then added with a pinch of honesty, "it's not entirely about that."

He waited. Oh, this was going to be worth hearing.

"Rusty," Danny began, "do you remember when we first got in to this business. We said we were going to play the game like we had-

"Nothing to lose." They said it simultaneously. Yeah, he remembered. Long ago and far away and before, way before Tess and prison and damn it, Danny had only just got out-

"Well, I lost something," Danny was explaining. "I lost someone."

_More than one someone._

Rusty's lips tightened at that.

_Don't even think about trying it._

"That's why I'm here," Danny said and his eyes were saying so much more.

Rusty ran a hand over his mouth.

"Here's the problem, now we're stealing two things and when push comes to shove, if you can't have both which are you gonna choose? And remember," and he jabbed a finger at the general direction of the fake vault behind them, "Tess does not split eleven ways."

"If everything goes to plan then I won't be the one that has to make that choice."

A plan. A plan. There was always a plan. And when he, Rusty, wasn't involved, wasn't consulted, wasn't able to work out the finer details, then there was always the chance that the plan could go wrong. He folded his arms and continued to fume.

"How'd she look?" Danny asked.

"She looked good." He didn't bother hiding his irritation.

"Thanks."

They looked at each other and Rusty felt his anger slowly melt away. Danny was smarter than this. Way smarter. He wouldn't let things get so far without…

"Explain it to me," Rusty said at last.

* * *

They were sat in Solly's, drinks and cards on the table, both leaning forward.

"Benedict is a control freak," Danny said. "Whomever he dates, he's going to make it his business to find out about their exes."

Rusty nodded slowly. From what he knew of Benedict, that made absolute sense.

"So he knows about you and if he's robbed-"

"-he's going to come looking for me, for _us_." Danny's face tightened. "I can't take that chance."

Rusty said nothing. He looked down at his whisky and followed Danny's reasoning through.

"So you're going to make a point of introducing yourself-"

"-and make sure I have-"

"-an alibi."

Rusty pursed his lips and ran a finger round the edge of the whisky glass. "A very convincing alibi."

"I hear Bruiser's on the payroll."

"Bruiser…" It had been some years since they'd last seen him but Bruiser was all things loyal. Yes, having Bruiser as an alibi would be a stroke of genius. Of course, with Danny identified, that would mean-

"I was going to tell you."

The words interrupted his thoughts and Rusty looked up into dark eyes full of guilt.

"I wanted to tell you. I just never found the right time."

And suddenly all the fear that Rusty had been misreading made sense.

"You said you had a plan," he pointed out. "What was your plan exactly?"

"Figured I'd ask Bruiser to let go a little. Thought I'd find her afterwards and show her what Benedict's capable of. Let her see what she should already know. That her boyfriend's more of a bastard than I'll ever be."

Rusty saw Danny waiting. Waiting and not asking. Just as he had been back at the poker game.

"I told you never to cut me out again," he reminded Danny. "I distinctly remember telling you that."

The guilt sitting opposite him went up an impossible notch.

"Do you have any idea how much it hurt?" Rusty asked in a fierce, low voice and the look he got back told him Danny had every idea. Rusty sighed.

"I'd have said yes," he muttered and took a swig of whisky.

When he looked at Danny again, he saw the guilt and the sorrow and the apology and the gratitude and the determination never, ever to screw things up again.

_You will._

"Well, I'll try not to," Danny offered and Rusty smiled in spite of himself.

"We still need to pull the combinations," he said. "With you out of the picture, that leaves-" he broke off and looked at Danny. "The kid?"

"What do you think?"

Rusty rubbed his lip.

"He can do it. Under the right circumstances."

"We can talk about those." Danny checked his watch. "We should be getting back to the warehouse."

"Yeah."

They both downed their whiskies and got to their feet.

"Out of interest," Rusty said, throwing dollar bills down on the table, "when do you think the right time might have been?"

"It's hard to say with these things," Danny replied and Rusty could almost believe he was serious. "You have to pick your moment."

"There's usually nothing wrong with your timing. It's your lack of good sense that needs addressing."

_That's why I've got you._

_Just remember that._

They walked back to the warehouse, in silence and in step.


	22. Chapter 22 Playing

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Oceany.

A/N: thank you to otherhawk. Generally for existing but in particular for prereading. As I said to her, I'm feeling ever more nervous about this fic because I want so much to get it right. After all, it's the story that everyone knows and as I'm getting closer to the end of it - well, (giggling and be quiet in the back) closer to Saturday anyway, I just seem to be feeling the pressure. Sigh. And thank you to everyone who's still reading this including hopefully rr whom I never get to thank because I can't reply to anonymous reviews. But thank you. And am shutting up now.

Chapter Twenty-two: Playing

* * *

Linus had thrown them a glance when they'd walked back into the warehouse but he wasn't Saul and so the look of concern skimmed off them and there were only smooth waters to be seen. Everything was set for the filming the next day and Danny's "Looking good, gentlemen" and Rusty's "Nice work" produced grins and pride and sent everyone away smiling.

Rusty pulled the doors to and padlocked up.

"We'll need to get another rappelling line," he said out of nowhere and then turned and saw Danny's face and sighed. "We've got another rappelling line."

He shook his head and there was just the thinnest edge of residual anger at how much Danny had kept from him and then amusement took over.

"You told me you never made the Boy Scouts."

The look Danny was giving him was relief and preposterous gratitude combined and hidden.

"Bluffed my way into a couple of meetings. Found out there weren't any girls and didn't bother going back."

"The clue is in the name," Rusty suggested and then added as an afterthought, "and now I'm picturing you in shorts. So not a good look for you."

Danny nodded agreement. "You are, of course, the first person I look to for sartorial advice."

* * *

Rusty poured another glass of red wine for them both and rolled his head around his shoulders and they talked the change of plan through again for what seemed like the twenty-fifth time. He thought back to the point when the only problem had been the ballast: that seemed such a minor detail in the scheme of things.

They were working backwards from "Linus and I trigger the vault" and they'd gassed the guards, dropped down the elevator shaft, climbed through a ventilation system that was on one of the sets of plans and that had hitherto been more or less ignored. They'd left Bruiser covering for them, they'd been taken to the little room with no cameras that Danny had found out about where chastisement was administered. And all that left was the reason for Danny to be chastised.

"Benedict's going to have to find you irritating beyond belief," Rusty suggested. "Shouldn't be hard."

"For you, maybe. Get redflagged, you mean? I can do that." Danny considered. "But I want to see Tess. I need to see Tess. Really, I should do that first. Because if…"

Rusty saw the rest of the if. If there was nothing left, if there was no more feeling, if there was no hope, if Tess really was happier without him, then maybe, just maybe Danny would have to be satisfied with the several million. Neither of them would ever say anything about Tess and only Rusty would know that the Benedict job would be a failure in Danny's eyes.

Danny looked at him. "I guess that's when I would have told you. Or not."

And Rusty nodded and pushed away the thought that even he might never have known that Tess was the reason they were in Vegas.

* * *

The next day and breakfast and the Hungry Groundhog. Rusty poured the syrup on to the waffles and then sat back in his chair, still thinking.

Linus could do the pull, no problem. From what Danny had told him about Chicago, the kid had swift fingers and a delicate touch. What worried Rusty was Linus's eagerness to prove himself. Benedict was no fool and even though they planned to hit him at a time when he was most pressured, he would still have the cautious instincts that had protected him so far. One comment or move that did not sit right with the role Linus had to play and Benedict would pounce.

If they just handed Linus the role, Rusty had no doubt that he would practise and practise and kill any spontaneity. The flow would be wrong, the moves, too rehearsed and Benedict would spot him a mile off.

No, Linus needed to be pressed into service as late in the day as possible. Adrenaline would take over and he would fly through the piece. So, there needed to be some sort of catalyst to make sure Danny was off the job and Linus had to step into the breach. Of course, Danny wouldn't really be off the job but Linus would think so. They would set it up so that he believed it.

"Ah…" Rusty said aloud to no one.

This had to be handled carefully because the rest of the crew didn't need to worry about Danny being off the job. That might throw _their_ focus. So they needed to know it wasn't for real. And they needed to keep that knowledge to themselves. Well, Yen wouldn't spill the beans. Reuben and Saul were good enough actors to help back up the story. Livingston, Frank and Basher could be discreet. He'd just have to speak sternly to the Malloys.

He stared down at the uneaten waffles and sighed. Thinking should never get in the way of good food.

Danny swung into the chair opposite and ordered a coffee from a passing waitress.

"We're running out of time," Rusty said quietly. "The job's three days away."

"I'll see her tonight."

Rusty looked at him and hesitated.

_What?_

Rusty waited as Danny's coffee arrived.

"Working backwards. Linus thinks he's taking your place because you're redflagged because you're persona non grata with Benedict-"

"-and Linus needs to know why I'm not flavour of the month," Danny finished.

"And he _would _need to know. Which means-"

"-which means we need him to have a reason-"

"-and Tess is a good reason."

He knew that Danny heard it in his voice. Danny looked at him. "You're going to ask him to follow me."

Rusty's eyes were apologetic. "It needs to happen. Because we need to use it."

And he explained his breakfast musings as Danny drank his coffee. By the time he'd finished, Danny's eyes had the distant look that spoke of ideas and inspiration.

"He's seen Tess. He's seen you angry." Danny's eyes flicked to Rusty's. "We could show him a fight."

"Day of," Rusty nodded and then the half-grin appeared. "We're going to be joshing him."

* * *

The centre of operations was being shifted to the Mirador suite – more room, more privacy. Rusty took Livingston to one side.

"This afternoon, Livingston, we're going to go a little offpage."

"No problem, Rus." Livingston smiled. "You know that I…well, I'll always…"

"I know," Rusty assured him. And he did. There was never anything less than full support from Livingston. "Just wanted to give you a heads up."

"Thanks, Rus. Appreciated."

Rusty saw Linus waiting outside his room as he returned to pick up more equipment and he felt the mischievous inside him rise. He put a finger on his lips and Linus's eyes widened. Then he opened the door to his room and they both stepped inside.

"I know I can trust you, Linus," Rusty began gravely and there was earnest and nodding and pride. "I need you to check something out for me."

"Anything, Rusty," Linus promised. "You can count on me."

"I don't think it's a problem," Rusty demurred, "but there's the chance it might be. And I don't like leaving anything to chance."

"Dad says chance can come up and bite you when you're not looking."

"Bobby's right." He hesitated and let Linus see the uncertainty and the unwillingness and let him step into the silence.

"I can do it, Rusty," Linus told him. "Whatever it is, I can do it. I promise I will."

"Alright," Rusty appeared to make his mind up. "It's like this. And this does not go outside these four walls, Linus."

Linus nodded, eyes wide.

"The girl from last night."

"Benedict's girl?"

"Danny knows her." Reluctant. Like it was the last thing in the world he ever wanted to share.

"Danny…" The cogs were going round in Linus's brain and Rusty moved quickly to impress his own version of events on Linus.

"There's history, Linus. Now, I spoke to Danny afterwards and we talked around things and I am certain he hasn't approached her. And if he does, I don't know what impact that will have on the job. Probably nothing. I hope nothing. Most likely everything will carry on as normal. But I need to know, Linus, because I can't leave anything to-"

"-chance," Linus finished.

"Not where Benedict is concerned. Not when we're working to keep everyone safe. Danny doesn't want anyone hurt and nor do I. And I need to make sure that Danny doesn't unwittingly cause the hurt. I need to know, Linus."

"You want me to follow him," and the pale look on Linus's face gave Rusty a flash of guilt before he reminded himself why he was doing this.

"What do you reckon, kid?"

Linus exhaled slowly. "Alright."

"Good. It's important."

It was. Just not for the reasons he was offering.

* * *

The filming of the vault sequences took most of the afternoon. Livingston was setting up with painstaking precision and Linus and the Malloys were watching and mostly helping.

The shots of the vault, serene and untroubled, had been taken. Danny and Yen were ready and masked up and Rusty caught Danny's eye.

"Livingston? You OK with the lighting?" Danny asked.

"Well…"

"Mmm," Rusty pulled a face. "He's got a point. You need some trial shots?"

"I could do with those," Livingston nodded. "Probably need to check how the shadows fall."

Livingston was the only one that could see his face and the smile of deep joy.

"Guess you could do with a third person in there. Just to make sure."

"Yes," Livingston's face was solemn. "A third person would be ideal."

Rusty walked over to the pile of uniforms and clothing and dug out a set, throwing it at Linus. "You're up, kid."

Clutching the clothing, Linus's mouth opened and closed and then he looked at Danny who was watching him expectantly and Rusty could see him shrug to himself and get on with it.

* * *

Danny, Linus and Yen were busy stacking money and Livingston was busy with the monitors and the cameras. Rusty was at his shoulder.

"I'm filming this, right, Rus? I mean you do want this filmed?" Livingston's voice was low so only he could hear it.

"I do, Livingston. We'll also shoot just Danny and Yen. But treat this as the real thing."

"Sure. Whatever you say," Livingston murmured. "And you're going to tell me why at some point."

"I promise."

* * *

Danny came to his room late. Rusty opened the door in his bathrobe and let him in then returned to the couch and the wine and the TV. He kept his gaze on David Niven and Kim Hunter and well away from Danny who sat down beside him and poured his own glass of wine.

They watched in silence as Kim Hunter took the place of the man she loved and caused Heaven and the universe to rock on its axis.

"She really loves him," Danny said eventually.

"She really does," Rusty agreed. "And he loves her."

"Yes."

Rusty turned his head and looked at Danny. "Is that the way it is?"

Danny returned his gaze. "That's the way it is."

He nodded slowly. "Then that's the way it is," he said lightly and he smiled, brightly and brilliantly and Danny's smile came in return, easy and deep.

Rusty hit the off button on the remote and stood up and stretched. "You staying?"

Danny tilted his head to one side. "Since when did you ask?"

"Since you got Linus tailing you."

_Oh… _"Oh, well, in that case…" The gleam in Danny's eye was bright.

"You are having way too much fun for an ex-con about to steal back his wife along with several million dollars," Rusty scolded and then thought about what he'd said. "On second thoughts, cancel that. There's probably not a limit to the fun."

Danny stood up and the smile was still there. "You missed out the part where the ex-con gets to work with his best friend again."

"That's it. No more drink for you. Because I can deal with the sentimental but if you go all the way through to maudlin, I don't know if I can cope."

Danny laid a hand on his arm and Rusty dismissed the unspoken words with a look.

"We'll do it, Danny," he said quietly.

They would. With panache.


	23. Chapter 23 Concealment

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Disclaimer: Didn't create them. Just borrowing them for a while.

Chapter: Twenty-three: Concealment

* * *

He'd been awake for a while when Danny surfaced. He was sitting by the window, staring out at Vegas and the morning, his right index finger stroking his bottom lip and he looked up and smiled as Danny sat down next to him.

"You been up long?" Danny asked and there was casual enquiry laced with not so casual recrimination.

Rusty laughed softly and he rested his right cheek on his fist and looked at Danny.

_What?_

"Been thinking about afterwards."

_Oh…_

_Yeah. _

He knew Danny knew he wasn't talking about being on the run from Benedict or the police catching up with them or even how long they should wait to spend the money.

"It'll be alright," Danny promised. "_She'll_ be alright."

Something in Rusty's face must have highlighted his doubt on this point because Danny disappeared into a long and desperate monologue.

"She's not happy, Rus. She isn't. It's like she's all tied up in this Benedictworld of right and proper and straight and narrow. And she knows, deep down inside, Rusty, that he isn't right for her. I can see it in her eyes. She can't be herself. She's being what he wants her to be. She's turning herself into this pale imitation of truth and she's not shining. She's not living the life she was meant to. She's tied up in this straitjacket and she's trying to conform to another person's view of how she should behave and that's-"

"-never going to work," Rusty finished. "Never," he added with emphasis.

Danny sighed and ran a hand through his hair and there was silence for a long, long moment.

"It won't be like that," Danny said eventually, looking out at the city. "I won't want it to be like that. And Tess won't want it to be like that."

"Well, that will make three of us."

"I won't _let _it be like that. I don't want to lose either of you again." The emotion was rich in Danny's voice.

Rusty sighed. "You planning on cutting me out again? Because your ridiculous idea about keeping me in the legal side of your life is the only reason this happened in the first-"

He stopped. There was something in Danny's manner. Something… Maybe Danny had begun to flinch or shift or wince and stopped it but there was something… He reached over and grabbed Danny's shoulder turning him to face him and letting him look into Danny's eyes, letting him see the truth.

"What aren't you telling me?"

And his voice was steel and urgent and intense and there was no way that Danny could escape it. He saw Danny trying. He saw Danny start to think, start to form words that would suffice but they withered away in the icy heat.

"They knew about us," Danny whispered.

Rusty blinked at him.

"The authorities. They knew about half a dozen different jobs we'd pulled and they knew I had a partner."

Rusty saw it all in a flash. The _want to work_ and the _must deceive Tess _and the overwhelming _need to protect._ And Danny had satisfied all three with a solution that was ultimately unsatisfactory in the extreme. The anger rose up inside Rusty, forceful and ferocious.

"You are such-"

"I know. I know. You don't have to tell me."

White-lipped, Rusty glared at him. "You let me think- you let _us-_"

"I couldn't be the reason they locked you up, Rus," Danny interrupted and the words were heartfelt and earnest and the look was as serious as they got.

"Well, I appear to be the reason _you_ got sent down," Rusty snapped.

Four years lost; four years they were never going to get back; four years and all he'd known was that the connection was alive. He'd had no clue as to whether or not Danny wanted to work with him again; he'd had no idea when he was going to _see _Danny again. Four years in a wilderness and when he'd stopped to think about it, when he'd allowed himself to think about it, it had hurt so badly.

The pain in Danny's face was vivid and the sight of it drained the fury from Rusty. Danny saw; Danny knew; Danny felt.

"You never try anything like that again," Rusty told him fiercely.

_Ever._

_Damn right._

Rusty nodded and there was a silence.

"Ironic that she ended up with Benedict of all guys," Danny said. "He's hardly going to win "Humanitarian of the Year"."

Rusty rubbed at his bottom lip again. "She needs to see for herself. Sound and vision."

"Livingston."

"I'd say so."

* * *

Reuben was breakfasting with Saul in the Mirador Suite.

"You enjoying yourselves?" Danny nodded at the spread of room service courtesy of Terry Benedict.

"Well, there was always the possibility that you two might drop by," Saul scowled as Rusty sat down at the table, picked up a slice of toast and started buttering it.

Rusty grinned at him. "You're not used to it by now-"

"-you never will be," Danny poured himself a glass of orange juice.

Reuben was studying them closely. "What are you two up to?"

Rusty saw Saul's eyes suddenly narrow.

"What _are_ you two up to?" he repeated with less curiosity and more abrupt suspicion.

"Has anyone told you," Danny asked with a hint of reproach, "that you both have a very-"

"-oh, a _very_-"

"-mistrustful nature?"

"If you're not used to it by now…" Reuben's eyes were laughing.

"It comes from knowing the pair of you for such a long time," Saul told them.

Rusty felt the smile growing on his face and didn't need to look at Danny to know he was grinning too.

"Oh, you can stop that!" Saul said crossly.

"You know your mood improves in direct relation to your caffeine consumption." Rusty pushed the coffee pot in Saul's direction.

"The doctors want me to cut back," Saul replied, pouring himself a cup anyway. He waved it at both of them. "So tell us already."

They looked at each other.

_After you._

"We have a slight deviation to the overall scheme," Danny explained.

Reuben's eyebrows rose. "Deviation? Why am I not surprised?"

* * *

Livingston arrived as Rusty was finishing his third piece of toast and looking with interest at the croissant on Danny's plate.

"Guys…"

There was a "Good morning" and a hesitant query and a not sure he should ask all rolled up in the one word and Rusty felt Danny looking at him. The look was partly about defending the croissant and mostly about bringing Livingston up to speed. Rusty sighed and nodded and stood up. He crossed the room and gently steered the hovering Livingston towards the bank of monitors and sat him down.

"Couple of things we need a little help with, Livingston."

"As well as planting the ballast?"

"As well as that."

Livingston blinked a little and gave a little shrug and a smile. "Sure, Rusty. Whatever."

And Rusty felt the trust and the support and the warmth and smiled back. Livingston could always be counted on. Even when he didn't know what he was agreeing to, he'd say "yes" first and worry about the details later. He was their kind of guy.

* * *

Basher's tiny distraction was working beautifully. Rusty waited for the OK from Livingston to let him know the sensors were blocked and then he loaded the first bag of flyers into the chute like a torpedo and helped Yen climb in after.

Yen was quick and efficient and re-emerged grumbling about the heat and the tight fit and Rusty listened for all of ten seconds and then silently held up the next bag. Yen glanced over his shoulder at the other bags waiting and uttered a stream of Anglo-Saxon invective mixed up with Cantonese.

"You have such a vivid turn of phrase," Rusty told him and pushed the next bag into place.

* * *

Later…and the bags were in place.

Later…and the vans were ready.

Later…and the vault was dressed.

Later…and the Tess curveball had been explained to all those who needed to know.

Later…and Rusty and Danny were sitting with drinks in Solly's.

"Curtain up the day after tomorrow," Danny said.

"Yeah." Rusty swilled the whisky round the glass.

"Tess never understood what she was asking for," Danny said abruptly. "She was used to safety and surety and she wanted that for both of us."

And it was just not the way Danny lived his life. Not the way _either _of them lived their lives. Not the way _they _lived.

"What's gonna be different this time round?" Rusty asked carefully, still studying the whisky.

"She knows the consequences," Danny said simply. "And so do I."

And Rusty looked up from his drink at the promise and smiled.


	24. Chapter 24 Before

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Disclaimer: I don't own. Though wondering where you'd buy shares. May stage takeover bid.

A/N: Anyone remember this fic? Congratulations. You get a bar of virtual chocolate of your choosing. Let me know what you'd like.

A/N 2: Lots of movie lines in here which I didn't write. Unavoidable, I'm afraid.

A/N 3: Oh, you don't want to know about the mauvais quart d'heure (well, evening, really) I had on Friday over a line from the movie that _completely_ messed with my view of what happens. Thank the universe for otherhawk, always there to listen and to sympathise and, in this case as so often, to suggest a way out. Happy sigh.

Chapter Twenty-four: Before

* * *

It was early morning and as deserted as Vegas got. The Bellagio fountains stopped dancing at midnight but there was new choreography for fight night and someone somewhere had decided this was the ideal time to rehearse. Rusty was standing staring at the fountains, bag of Krispy Kremes in hand. He didn't turn his head as the man arrived beside him. Didn't need to. The presence was as familiar as his own shadow.

"Sleep, Rusty," Danny chastised. "Try looking it up in the dictionary sometime. It's somewhere just after running on fumes and just before train wreck."

Rusty nodded absently. Sleep was always a good thing. It just wasn't always the right thing. He heard the sigh and then Danny leant up against the railing and they stood watching the fountains play in the cold sunlight.

_Something, huh._

_Yeah._

"Want to tell me what's eating you? Your phone's switched off and your bed's not slept in."

Rusty shrugged. "Everything. Nothing."

"That's a wide range."

Rusty looked at him for a long moment and let Danny see a little of the turbulence within, enough that Danny understood that this was serious; that _he _was serious.

Danny's face tightened. "Last time you looked like that, you took off and I didn't see you for three months."

"You thought about after?" The words were out before he knew it.

There was a beat and then… "After when we're rich? After when we're wondering how to spend eight figures each?"

Danny was wilfully misunderstanding, Rusty was sure.

"After," he said with emphasis and this time, Danny was not quite quick enough to hide his reaction and Rusty _knew_ he understood. Still, Danny persisted.

"Didn't we have this conversation yesterday? I told you-"

"Benedict," Rusty said finally. If Danny wanted it spelling out, he would spell it out.

Danny was silent.

"Benedict," Rusty said again. "He knows who you are. He knows what you do. And yes, you've got Bruiser as an alibi but Benedict will still suspect-"

"-we're kind of counting on that," Danny interrupted. "Otherwise I might have to suggest…" He tailed off and then added quietly, "I can handle Benedict, Rusty-"

"Benedict can be petty. Viciously so," Rusty cut in. "Brother-in-law's tractor dealership, remember?"

"Yeah…" Danny was frowning. "Where's this-"

"You're breaking your parole," Rusty said heavily. "It'll take Benedict less than five seconds to decide to throw you back inside."

"Oh."

A little too quick. A little too slick. Rusty's eyes narrowed.

"You've thought about this?"

"It's not the crime of the century, Rus, though the job we're pulling might be. This'll just be three to six months."

_Just be?_

"Three to six months back in the joint," Rusty pointed out. "Danny, I-" he broke off.

…prisontime when he hadn't known what was happening to Danny, where he'd grown angry every time he thought about _why _it was happening to Danny and where he'd alternated between anger and fear every time he'd thought about him...

…loneliness and deep-buried anxiety and long nights where neither could be suppressed and where both came out to join him and help him finish off one bottle of whisky and start on the next…

…surviving in the wasteland by skipping from one job to another and burying himself in the other buzz that he loved…

"Hey." Danny saw. Inevitably.

He couldn't say anything, out loud or otherwise. There was nothing he could utter that wouldn't sound needy or sentimental in the extreme and Danny knew how it was. They'd had nearly the same conversation yesterday. Four years. Part of him had refused to count as the days of the eight year sentence passed and another part of him was helpless not to; marking off the days in his head like a convict with a lump of charcoal on a cell wall.

Blinking heavily, Rusty turned back to the fountains and the words that he knew he shouldn't say fell out of him.

"You don't have to push it. If you don't push it with Benedict, he might just let you go. If you don't show her-"

"Rus…"

Soft and forgiving and a definite no to the suggestion that Danny might forget about showing Tess what Terry was like. Danny's arm pressed gently up against his and Rusty looked at him and a flicker of the chaotic misery showed again in Rusty's eyes.

"Three to six months, Rus. Not four years."

And there was acceptance and resignation about a brief extension to his time inside, more routine, another few months on his record versus winning back Tess. And alongside that, there was the knowledge of how Rusty felt and sympathy and empathy and the absolute decision that he wasn't going to change his mind.

"Nothing to lose, remember?" Danny said softly.

"That sounded a lot better when we were twenty-one."

_Rus…_

Warm guilt flooded through him. He knew how Danny felt about Tess. Tess, who was worth risking a change of plans for. Tess, whom Danny loved as much as Danny loved him and who, once upon a time, had loved Danny as much as he did. Tess, part of the TessandDanny that was still alive. Tess, who had been the catalyst in Danny going to prison. Tess. And now, Danny might go back to prison for her.

"She's worth it," Danny said needlessly.

"Yeah." Rusty agreed heavily.

She had to be.

* * *

It was the day that marked the end of the Xanadu. Rusty had seen Reuben arriving for the demolition ceremony, his face tight with anger and grief for the casino he had once owned. Watching it being blown up was like watching a child die and Rusty was in no doubt that Terry Benedict knew it. He'd welcomed Reuben with a cold smile and Reuben had glared at him. For the sake of appearances, Reuben had shaken the hand offered like it was dog shit on a stick. Rusty had witnessed the encounter with no real surprise. Like he'd said to Danny earlier, Benedict had a petty, vicious streak.

Danny had gone to the ceremony. Less to see the explosion, more to watch Tess. And Linus had followed to watch Danny. Rusty had briefly thought of the fun to be had in setting someone to tail Linus and someone to tail that person and so on, like a series of mirrors.

Rusty sat at Reuben's house and sipped the iced coffee Dominic had brought him and munched the little cheesy things that had accompanied the coffee, all the while concentrating on the little model mock-up of the vault. He ran through the timings in his head; thought about his own role and those of the other ten. And now that the con was so close, he felt the slow burn of thrill start to smoulder deep within him. This thrill had a special flavour. It tasted of working with Danny.

* * *

Basher didn't show for the run through at Reuben's. Rusty gave it ten minutes but there was no sign and he wasn't answering his phone. He looked up at Danny who shrugged.

_Up to you._

_I'm going for it._

"Everyone? Have your attention?"

The little conversations died and they all sat obediently waiting for the narration of the plan with all the little pieces of jigsaw. He walked them through it, saw Linus nod when he mentioned lifting the codes and Rusty didn't look anywhere near Danny.

Lifting the codes was supposed to be a casual brush against Benedict followed by an immediate hand-off to Danny playing Sheldon Willis. A snatch and pass, leaving Linus free of incriminating evidence, leaving Danny set up and ready to swing into action, ready to distract Benedict with all the weight of the NGC, ready to go behind the scenes and play a pivotal part. And the ownership of that role had switched without the new proprietor realising.

* * *

They'd moved from Reuben's to the warehouse for the dress rehearsal. Yen had folded himself impossibly into the little cash cart and Turk had lost the toss as to which of the twins was going to play dress up. As the false vault doors closed and the green laser beams played around the first foot upwards from the floor, Rusty cracked open his (fifth? Sixth? Fifth. He was sure it was his fifth) Red Bull of the day.

Yen emerged and Rusty started painting the picture again.

"OK. They've put you in the middle of the room, ten feet from everything. You have to get from there to the door without touching the floor. What do you do?"

This was the first time that the others, Danny aside, had seen Yen in action and the first time that all of them had seen the enormity of the task.

"Ten says he shorts it." This from Turk.

"Twenty" came the echo and then Yen executed the back flip perfectly, beaming at them from on top of the racking and earning a deserved round of applause.

"Window or aisle, boys?"

A vile, all-pervading smell accompanied the words and as one, they turned to see Basher, covered head to foot in the brown and the fetid.

"Yeah, we're in deep shit," Basher said succinctly.

* * *

They were stood listening to Basher rant, Cockney and technobabble raging in equal quantities, as he stripped off his clothes. Rusty's hand was resting just under his nose, trying to block the stench. Others were less subtle.

"They're so pony they've gone and blown the back up grids one by one like dominoes." Basher was fervent and furious and almost completely unintelligible.

"Basher, what happened?" Danny asked and there was a plea in there for layman's terms.

The story was full of disbelief at professional incompetence and impotent fury at where it left them.

"…we're in Barney," Basher finished.

There was a silence and Rusty felt certain he wasn't the only one who was wondering where the town of Barney was located.

"Barney Rubble," Basher attempted to clarify then, staring at the sea of blank faces, added fiercely, "Trouble!"

"Well," Danny half-turned towards him and began, "we could always-"

"-by tomorrow?"

_No way._

A Harrington Pearce. He shook his head at the mere suggestion and then a light went on over Basher's head.

"Hang on a minute, hang on. We could use a pinch."

_What's a pinch?_

"What's a pinch?" Danny vocalised. There was no time for jargon.

Basher launched into a detailed description and then he must have seen the tension in Danny because he started relaying what a pinch could do in easy language and Rusty got it. He got it and his mind was already moving.

"How long?"

Basher considered.

"About thirty seconds?"

Danny got it too.

"Could a pinch knock out the power of an entire city like, for instance-"

"-Las Vegas?" Basher grinned and then grew serious as he thought about it. "Yeah, I think it might. But there's only one pinch in the world big enough to manage it."

"Where?" Danny asked and the happy expression on Basher's face told them it was a viable target.

* * *

"I've got Livingston looking out for the red flag. He thinks it should be up by tomorrow."

"Good. I'll take Linus with me," Danny said as he changed clothes. "You can brief Saul and Reuben and Livingston and we'll kick off when we get back."

Rusty sat on the bed with a bag of tortillas and nodded then frowned.

"You're not going to let Linus-"

"-commit a felony? No. Don't think Bobby would be impressed if it all goes sour. I'll leave him in the van with the twins. If anyone can make a fast getaway, it's those two."

"Maybe I should go," Rusty suggested in between mouthfuls of Doritos.

_Why? You think I'm not up to it?_

Rusty snorted, inhaled some cheese crumbs and made an impressive noise, somewhere in between a choke and a cough. Wordlessly, he took the handkerchief Danny passed him.

"You stay and sleep," Danny instructed. "Need you rested, Rusty."

He'd waited till after Danny and the others had left and then he'd checked the doctor's outfit and he'd checked the cell phones were charged and he'd walked down to the warehouse and checked the vans and then he'd walked back to the hotel room and stared at the ceiling and played it through, over and over and over.

* * *

They weren't back and he'd refused to give in to the worry – inevitable, unhelpful and ridiculous. This was _Danny._ He rolled his eyes at himself and he wondered briefly whether he should in fact have grabbed more shuteye. The most he'd concede to anxiety was to loiter with ice-cream and a spoon in the foyer crowd and to watch the arrivals.

He'd just finished his second scoop of Rocky Road, drawing the plastic spoon down through his mouth and licking away the final bits of delicious and creamy when he saw the van pulling up and Danny and Linus climbing out, intriguingly unhappy with each other. Rusty dumped the food debris and pulled out his phone.

"They're back," he told Livingston.

* * *

Linus was sulking. Tight-lipped and silent and angry. Angry with Danny, angry with himself and Rusty couldn't wait for the story. He flicked a glance at Danny but Danny was carefully keeping his head turned away. Rusty's lips twitched.

"You boys have a nice trip?"

Neither of them answered and Rusty wondered how much of a screw-up Linus had made.

The elevator doors opened on the Mirador Suite and they were confronted by Livingston.

"We have a problem."

* * *

Rusty was sat at the bar, watching Danny and listening to Livingston start the argument.

"You've been redflagged. It means the moment you set foot in that casino floor, they'll be watching you like hawks. Hawks with video-cameras," Livingston added with a touch of elaborate drama

Danny was looking at the piece of paper with his mugshot and his record and somewhere behind Rusty, Linus was leaning up against the wall, still a little sullen, a spectator on events.

"That's a problem," Danny agreed and handed the paper to Rusty.

He stared down at it like he hadn't seen it before and he imagined how a Rusty who hadn't known about this would take it. He immersed himself in the feeling of growing rage that their plans were threatened by such a stupid, stupid thing. The television played behind him and it was an irritant.

"Saul, turn that off," he instructed tersely.

He heard Saul, still in character, respond with the arrogance of Lyman Zerga.

"I'll turn it off when I'm ready to turn it-"

"Saul!"

Angry and fierce and frightening to those who didn't know him - he was willing to bet Linus had jumped inside - and if it had been real rage, maybe frightening to those who did.

"It's off, it's off!" Saul said hurriedly.

Rusty focused his gaze on Danny. Ice blue asked the question.

"Any idea how this happened?"

"No."

The answer came back, quick and hasty and the lie was obvious, really quite blatant even to those who didn't know Danny.

Linus couldn't let it go.

"Oh, come on."

Rusty turned his head.

"He's been chasing Benedict's girl," Linus went on. "The two of them got in an argument two nights ago." Rusty could feel the look of disbelief and _how_ from Danny and he saw the defensive rise up in Linus. "I was tailing you."

"And who told you to do that?" Danny snapped.

"I did," Rusty turned his attention back to Danny. "I was concerned you couldn't leave Tess alone"

"Who's Tess?" Reuben wondered.

"My wife-"

"-_ex_-wife."

"Tess is here?" Saul had just the right note of surprise.

"I'm sorry," Rusty told Danny. "I didn't know if it would sting you but it did." And he followed this up with words that would have cut and hurt if true. "You're out, Danny."

"He's out?" Reuben's voice was full of shock and Rusty made a note to congratulate him on the performance later.

"It's either that or we call the whole thing off. His involvement puts us all at risk."

"This is not your call," Danny said as if fighting Rusty, fighting inevitability, fighting the hard-nosed, correct decision, made without sentiment.

"Oh, you made it my call when you put her before us. You made it mine."

Mutiny. And he saw Danny struggling for his position of command.

"This is my job."

"Not anymore." Fletcher Christian watched Captain Bligh disappear over the horizon.

"He can't just be out!" Reuben was wide-eyed and horrified. "Who's going to trigger the vault?"

Moment of truth. The moment when they would really know what Linus was made of, when his pedigree would surely tell.

Rusty turned to Linus. "Kid, you up for it?"

Linus was pale and shaken by the argument, the emotions that Danny and he had thrown at each other, the tangible icy ferocity and the fast-moving change of plans. Unblinking, Rusty held his gaze and he felt the weight of Danny's stare behind him. Both of them silently and invisibly willing the right answer from Linus.

"I can do it."

Rusty turned back before the relief could show in any way.

"Done. Locate the others, let them know the change in plan. Curtain goes up at seven."

Saul was still playing Saul to whom this was all news.

"Tess is with Benedict now? She's too tall for him."

The mental image of Tess in heels dwarfing Benedict flew into Rusty's mind and he bit his lip. Danny had disappeared out on to the balcony ostensibly in a desire to be Greta Garbo and cope with his demotion. Rusty let Linus see the tilt of his head and the drop of his shoulder as if he wanted to take some of the hurt away.

As he stepped out on to the balcony, he heard Saul saying, "Let him go, Linus. They'll sort it out."

He shut the door behind him and stood alongside Danny. They stared out at Vegas.

"That went well," he suggested and Danny nodded.

"You want to tell me what happened last night?" Rusty asked.

"Linus lost focus. Yen got hurt."

"Badly?" Rusty was all attention now.

"No. We're still go."

Linus… And they'd just handed a critical part of the job to him.

Danny read his thoughts as he always did.

"Don't worry. Little burst of independence. It's good that he got it out of his system before tonight."

Rusty exhaled slowly and his brain was reconfiguring the job and Danny's eyes were now on him, not Vegas.

"Rusty, there is no way for you to do everything."

No, no, there wasn't. Didn't stop him wishing.


	25. Chapter 25 Time

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Disclaimer: thank you so much to the writers who created these characters. Love borrowing them. Worry slightly about the late fees.

Chapter Twenty-five: Time

* * *

Linus had been subdued but professional during the briefing Rusty was giving him. Something was eating at him and he looked like he needed some kind of reassurance.

"S'OK, kid," Rusty told him as he went over his lines with him. "You'll be fine."

"Really?" There was a lot of hope in that word. "I mean I know I'm not Danny-"

"-oh, you're definitely not him," Rusty agreed with a smile.

"He-he's alright with this, isn't he?" Nervous and anxious and not just about the job and suddenly Rusty realised why.

"He's good," Rusty reassured.

* * *

Rusty found Danny sitting in his suite, glass of whisky in hand. He pushed the door to and Danny half-turned his head.

"Anyone else miss me?"

"Think I'm the only one who'll come looking."

"How's Linus?"

"Left him discussing Sheldon's wardrobe with Saul. Frank called by and they set up the codeword. And Reuben was busy giving him a potted history of the NGC. Same one he gave us the other night at his place."

Danny nodded to himself and it didn't take a man skilled in reading people and it _certainly _didn't take a best friend and partner to see that something was preying on Danny's mind.

Rusty wandered over, leaned up against the wardrobe, his arms folded, and waited.

"See, the thing is," Danny began, "it's one thing to make a lift…"

Rusty finished the thought. "…it's another to plant something."

"And to do both…"

"…to Terry Benedict…"

"…is courting trouble." Rusty got it.

The cellphone appeared in Danny's left hand and Rusty watched him as he sat, turning it over and over silently. Sheldon was supposed to plant this after a little heated discussion with Frank backstage. But with the change of plans, there would need to be a change of plan.

Rusty reached out a hand. "I'll-"

The phone disappeared from view.

"No. Not you, Rus." Danny was definite.

Argument rose and died away. Danny meant it, he could tell.

"Well…" There was Linus, there was him, there was Danny, there was… "Saul?" he frowned. He supposed Lyman Zerga _could_ get close enough to…

Danny shook his head and stood up. "We change the target instead."

Change the target? It _had_ to be Benedict. Wasn't like Walsh was the decision-maker. It needed to be Terry Benedict at the other end of the phone. There wasn't anyone else who- Rusty suddenly looked at reluctance and resignation and acceptance and a hundred different things and the answer clicked into place in his head.

"Tess," he said heavily.

"Wanted to see her again anyway," Danny said lightly.

Tess. And if Danny planted the phone on her, when Tess found the phone…

"She'll think…she'll…" Rusty straightened up.

"…she'll know," Danny agreed. "She'll work it out."

"You trust her not to-"

"-yes." Danny was definite again. "She could but she won't."

_You're-_

_-yes._

Discovery and disaster. Images flooded through Rusty's mind. One word and Benedict would have Danny and if he had Danny, there was no way _he_ couldn't get involved and then there'd be the others…all of their plans, all of their safety riding on...

Danny's eyes were on his. Dark, steady, full of belief. Belief in Tess. Asking Rusty to believe in him.

"Ohhh…" Rusty let out a long slow breath and reluctantly, he let the turbulent doubt go. Because Danny never needed to ask.

They stared at each other in silence for a moment and then Rusty walked over and poured himself a whisky.

"I swear you do this to me on purpose."

Danny's eyebrows went up. "I drive you to drink?"

Rusty sat down opposite. "Often," he muttered and took a swig.

Danny checked his watch. "Showtime in-"

"-an hour and a half." Rusty didn't need to check his. "And then…"

"…and then." Danny raised his glass.

Rusty looked at him and the words never needed to be said.

"To whatever," Danny suggested lightly.

"Whatever," Rusty echoed and tipped his whisky in salute.

* * *

"Rus."

The relief on Livingston's face as he stepped over the threshold of the Mirador suite was such that Rusty wondered what he'd missed.

"Everyone OK?"

"Yeah. Just that…" Livingston gave a nervous shrug. "I think you should talk to Linus. He's been pacing up and down and I'm a little worried…"

Rusty glanced through the arch to the bar area. Linus could be seen wearing out the floor in front of the couches, nodding to himself and doubtless going over lines in his head.

"I'll give him a pep talk," he promised and he smiled at Livingston. "You want to help?"

* * *

"You're looking good, kid," Rusty said, swinging himself up on to a stool and grabbing a handful of nuts off the bar.

It wasn't an empty compliment. Linus had chosen his costume well and the glasses and hairstyle said sobriety, respectability and everything upright and honest and decent.

Linus relaxed fractionally. Alright. Time to give some good advice with just a little play to take the edge off the nerves.

"Where you gonna put your hands?"

He saw the question register with Linus and he clutched his briefcase in front of him.

"No good," Rusty said decisively and Linus gave a small gesture of nervous exasperation and then a hand crept up to his collar.

"Don't touch your tie," Rusty chided, "look at me. OK, I ask you a question - you have to think of the answer - where do you look?"

Linus's eyes dropped to the floor.

"No good," Rusty said again. "You look down, they know you're lying."

Immediately, Linus's eyes travelled up to the ceiling.

"And up, they know you don't know the truth."

Linus closed his eyes and when he opened them again there was a look of mild exasperation and a hint of wild bewilderment.

"Don't use seven words when four will do," Rusty went on. "Don't shift your weight, look always at your mark but don't stare. Be specific but not memorable. Be funny but don't make him laugh. He's got to like you and then forget you the moment you've left his sight. "

Linus's expression grew faintly pained as if his brain had started to melt somehow.

Rusty's voice grew more earnest, more compelling till he knew he had Linus hanging on his every word.

"And for God's sake, whatever you do, don't, under any circumstances-"

"Rus?"

On cue, Livingston's voice floated through from the other room.

"Yeah?" he called back.

"Can you take a look at this?"

"Sure."

And he was off and away, leaving a nonplussed Linus in his wake who was going to work out he'd been had about ten seconds afterwards and who would loosen up accordingly.

* * *

His mind busy spinning all the plates of the pinch, the Ella, the everything, Rusty headed for the bedroom. Role call for Saul. He stuck his head round the door and saw Saul, sitting on the bed and for a moment, he looked tired and old and fragile. Vulnerable.

"Saul?"

There was as much of a question as he dared in there. More than too late for Saul not to be alright and yet if he wasn't, if he really didn't… He saw Saul cover the moment with professional pride.

"It's time," Rusty said softly.

Saul gave a curt nod and stood up. He wasn't a quitter any more than Rusty was. Any more than any of them were. Rusty certainly wasn't going to push it. He gave Saul a ghost of a smile and stepped out of the room and back to the insanely busy schedule.

* * *

Later and back in the main room and he stood for a moment and let the waves of professionalism and adrenaline and calm and buzz and confidence wash over him.

Right now? Right now, Saul would be with Benedict awaiting the arrival of the emeralds, speaking the Russian with Vladimir and Mikhail that Rusty had coached them in, walking past Frank at the blackjack table… And somewhere in that mix, Danny was going to be obvious and picked up and… And. Right.

He forced his mind back on the timetable. Basher was loading the pinch, quick change for the Malloys, they'd collect the trolley…

Rusty stepped round Yen, winding and rewinding the bandage round his hand and sat down next to Livingston in front of the monitors. He snuck a glance at the man on his right. Livingston was far removed from the nervous, awkward guy that so many people met and wrote off. In front of the machinery, in charge of the technical, the nerves were buried and he was confident and brilliant and perfectly in control.

"Linus ready?" he asked.

"Yeah," Livingston confirmed, picking up Linus on screen. "He's in place."

"Good."

Linus looked as if the adrenaline was winning out over the nerves but his fingers were tapping. Rusty had just decided to have a word when Livingston leaned into the mike with a mischievous expression.

"Deep breaths," Livingston told Linus, "you'll do fine."

"Thank you," came the muttered reply.

"No sweat, you're a natural," Livingston went on. Then added, with perfect timing, "but don't screw up."

The look Linus flashed to the security camera told him exactly what he thought of that and Rusty couldn't stop the grin flashing on to his face. Oh, Livingston had been working with Danny and him way too long. He was picking up far too many bad habits.

The elevator doors opened behind them and the Malloys arrived with room service.

"Who gets the penne?" called Virgil.

"Right here."

Livingston claimed it with almost indecent haste, seizing the plate from Virgil's hands and Rusty was quietly amused. Anyone would think he stole food.

The top of the trolley was cleared, Rusty pulling the tablecloth free with a flourish like a magician and bundling it in his hands. He liked the analogy because forget the white tigers: they were about to weave million dollar magic that Vegas would truly appreciate.

Rusty looked over at Yen. "You ready?"

Yen was. They were. Let the vanishing trick commence.


	26. Chapter 26 Disguise

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Disclaimer: Didn't write "Ocean's Eleven". Didn't create any of the characters. Hope this doesn't come as too much of a shock.

A/N: oh, it's been a while for this one. Lots of lines from the film in here which I didn't write (see above disclaimer).

Dedicated to everyone still following this.

Chapter Twenty-six: Disguise

* * *

"Rus?" Livingston was back at the monitors and devouring the pasta. He waved a fork at the screens.

Rusty sat back down beside him and watched Terry Benedict leaving Saul and heading out to the casino floor. Fight night and Terry didn't even know he was in the ring: they just had to keep things that way for as long as possible. Rusty took hold of the microphone.

"Linus, you're up," he said and watched Sheldon Willis swing into action.

He turned his attention back to the Yen, the cashcart and the Malloys. It was a stupid question and he knew it was a stupid question but the perfectionist within made him ask it anyway.

"When do you make the deposit?"

"When we get your signal."

Virgil looked like he wanted to comment. Turk commented.

"Dude, what do we look like? A couple of peckerwood jackasses or something?"

_Yeah, yeah._ Rusty stored up the description. It had a kind of rustic charm all of its own. He felt the twins exchange glances and then watched as the Amazing Yen lived up to his name and folded himself impossibly in two into the tiny space.

"Amazing, how's that feel?" Rusty was mock-solicitous as he handed Yen the breathing apparatus. "You alright? Want something to read? A magazine?

Yen's middle finger suggested no.

"Alright." Sober and professional. "Counting down. Thirty minutes of breathing time starts…now."

He clicked the top into place and looked at the Malloys.

Virgil gave a sigh that was two parts impatience and one part resignation. "Quick change is all lined up."

"See you later, Doc," Turk closed off the conversation.

"Later," Rusty agreed.

They disappeared with Yen and he could hear the squabbling start as they left.

"Dude, _you're_ the reason he double-checks. You forgotten Memphis?"

"Rus…"

Livingston's tone made him swing round and give his full attention to Terry and Linus. Penne pasta forgotten, Livingston's hand was covering the mike.

"I think he caught Linus looking…" he hissed.

_Oh, shit… _Rusty stared at the screen. They couldn't afford rookie errors. Terry's next words would show whether or not Livingston was right.

"You been at the Commission long?"

Casual and anything but. All the hairs stood up on the back of Rusty's neck.

"About eighteen months." Linus's answer was studied, calm, normal. Just right for Sheldon.

Rusty stared intently at the monitor, trying his damnedest to see Terry's reaction because this could all go wrong before it had even started. If they had to abort… He forced himself to concentrate. It might not come to that.

"You know Hal Lindley over there? Work with him at all?"

Quickfire. Demanding a rapid response. A test. Had to be. Hal Lindley. Reuben's conversations about the NGC ran through his head and the name slipped into sharp focus together with all relevant details. The question was a killer. Rusty grabbed the mike from Livingston and started speaking urgently.

"Died last year, Linus."

Fast, to the point information for a seamless reply. Dutifully, Sheldon answered Terry and Rusty held his breath. He was certain Livingston was holding his too and probably Linus was as well. Had it worked?

Apparently, it had. Terry didn't press further.

"Well done, kid," he murmured.

"Frank's in play," Livingston said tensely.

"Yeah…" Rusty's turn to wrap his hand round the mike. "Let's hope that was the bump in the road."

* * *

The party had moved off the casino floor now and Rusty found himself imagining how Terry was feeling. Annoyed and irritated by the delay…helpless to do anything other than accommodate the whims of the NGC… Shrewd casino owners – and no other kind succeeded in the business - kept the NGC onside. Piss off the NGC, they'd be all over you like flies round a sugarbowl.

They'd factored all this in, of course. The timing was crucial. Terry was chomping at the bit to get to the prize fight: the spotlight event at the Bellagio and he couldn't miss it. Terry's ego was their friend.

"He's good," Livingston mouthed as they listened to Sheldon outlining Frank Catton's misdemeanours.

Rusty nodded. Linus was. Smooth and pleasant and non-threatening and credible.

The race card. Emotive and powderkeg and Frank's reaction was all Linus would need to have an excuse to brush up against Terry and lift the codes. Rusty hoped Linus got them first time. Because they could go again, of course they could go again. Sheldon could be verbally clumsy once more and Frank could snap but Terry wasn't stupid. Instincts would take over and the deeper they got in, the more severe and widespread the consequences.

Frank's voice cut across his thoughts.

"You'd better talk to him."

The right words. The words that meant…

"He's got it." Rusty leaned into the microphone. "Virgil, Turk, deliver the package."

Adrenaline. He could taste it. Excitement. The game underway and the thrill and the rollercoaster and this was what he _lived_ for. And he hadn't felt quite _this _alive for easily five years. He caught Livingston's eye. Livingston was looking amused. Rusty shrugged and smiled, unashamed. It had been a while.

"It's good," Livingston said suddenly and then flushed. "I mean…it's…not that other times haven't been…I didn't…"

Rusty's lips twitched.

"It _is_ good," he agreed quietly and Livingston relaxed. "You lined up with channel 88?"

Livingston nodded and held up a little handset. "Can work this remotely to tune in the feed." He hesitated for a second. "Danny'll be-"

"-fine. Danny'll be fine," Rusty finished. If he said it often enough, it had to be true.

Time to change clothes. He hauled the iridescent green over his head and buttoned up the white shirt then stripped off his pants and pulled on the fresh pair. He studied the material. This was kind of a dark taupe. Seemed a good soothing colour choice for a medical man.

Livingston was doing his best to stare straight ahead.

"It's necessary," Rusty grinned. "Doctors wear this shit."

He looked down at the tie in his hand and stifled the wince. Jeez…the stripes…

Movement on a monitor and his eyes were drawn instantly to it. Danny being escorted down a corridor by two of Terry's heavies. The kind that were paid to hit and never ask questions. Rusty's fingers clenched for a second on the tie then Danny was out of sight and though the worry remained, focus returned. Saul. Saul, standing in the security room with Walsh and the security guards. Watching and waiting… Anytime soon…

"There. There's your briefcase now, Mr Zerga."

A screen showed an elevator where Benedict's men were kindly escorting a greaseman and powerful explosives into a vault.

"W-wonderful," Saul said and his _voice_ sounded heavy and sweaty and ill. How _did_ he do that? Rusty took a moment out to admire. He shook himself. Back to the programme.

"That's my cue," he said, tying the tie. "Give Basher the go."

Livingston nodded and smiled a _Good luck._

Rusty picked up his jacket then moved to the mirror and pulled the brown wig into place, adding the thick-framed spectacles. The reflection staring back was suitably unrecognisable. He picked up the little medical bag and headed out of the room.

* * *

Down in the elevator and along the corridors. Rusty glanced at his watch: such a tight schedule. Frank would be heading back to the suite; Reuben would still be being highly visible at the fight; Basher would be lining up the pinch; Linus would be heading for the elevator; Livingston would be getting ready to intercept the call for the doctor _and_ to swap in the camera footage; the twins would be preparing for their fourth and not final role of the evening; Saul would be waiting for the best possible moment to distract; Yen would just be waiting.

Danny….Danny would be crawling in darkness and tight space and… Rusty smiled involuntarily. Danny would be heart-in-mouth, thrill-racing-through-him, loving this as much as he did. He pushed the glasses on to his nose and waited for Livingston to speak in his ear.

"Rusty, you're up."

He strode up to the security guards at the door.

"Someone call for a doctor?"

* * *

The guards hurried him down a corridor at top speed to where Walsh was waiting anxiously in the doorway. Walsh looked full of breathless panic and that was understandable. Any dead guest was one too many but Lyman Zerga was rich and important and shady and that made things so much worse. Publicity of the very wrong kind.

"Doctor Ross," Rusty announced briskly. "Where's the patient?"

"Through here." The relief was palpable. "His name is Lyman Zerga and he collapsed just a few minutes ago."

"Understood." Doctor Ross was no-nonsense. "I've got two paramedics on their way."

"I'll let security know." Walsh turned away, looking glad to have a job to do.

Saul was lying apparently unconscious on the floor and for the briefest moment, Rusty felt his heart twist. Some day, somewhere… Not today, though. He knelt down and clicked open the little bag, snapping on a pair of blue latex gloves.

"Lyman, can you hear me? Lyman? I'm a doctor and I'm here to help you."

_Check pulse, roll gently on to the back…_

"He's not breathing!" Right note of professional alarm.

_Tilt head, clear airways, loosen clothing, run the heel of the hand down to the sternum, lock hands…_

CPR. Everyone who'd ever watched TV or a movie knew what it looked like and that helped sell the scene to the audience.

"Come on, man, breathe, breathe, breathe…"

Doctor Ross pumped Lyman Zerga's chest and bent down and administered mouth to mouth. As the paramedics arrived beside him, he straightened up.

"I'm sorry," he said sadly, wiping his mouth with a tissue and pulling his glasses off. "We've lost him."

Walsh looked stricken as if it was a member of his own family who'd passed away. Breaking bad news to Benedict would never be a popular pastime and this would certainly qualify. All things being equal, Walsh would probably be grateful for the robbery.

"I'll prepare the death certificate," Doctor Ross said as the paramedics loaded the body on to the stretcher and draped the cloth artistically over the top. "Formalities. I guess he'll have friends and family who need to know. Once we get to the hospital, I'll notify the authorities."

"He just…I mean, there wasn't any sign…" Walsh was in shock.

"There was nothing that you could have done," Doctor Ross told him firmly, reassuringly. "No one knows when a heart attack is going to happen."

Walsh swallowed and recovered his composure. "Thank you. For trying, I mean."

Doctor Ross gave him a professional smile. "It's what it's all about."

* * *

"Sweet," Turk remarked as they left the backstage and pushed the stretcher across the casino floor.

Rusty silently agreed. "Livingston, we're set."

The pinch was going to be their distraction too. Darkness to cover a multitude of cons including a Lazarus that they couldn't afford to be rumbled.

"Nearly there," Virgil murmured.

"Yeah…"

They steered the stretcher into the alcove and with perfect timing, the blackout hit and Saul slipped off the stretcher. Rusty felt Turk sweep the stretcher away and Virgil thrust the canvas bag into his hands and then Saul and he were pushing their way into an empty staircase with emergency lighting.

"You had to kiss me?" Saul grumbled, pulling off Lyman Zerga's expensive silk and pulling on the purple and green shirt and casual trousers that had a completely different identity.

"Realism," Rusty told him, disposing of the wig and the glasses and dressing in the elegant suit and silk shirt. Another change and this one was as necessary as Saul's. A different part, a different costume. No one would mistake him for the doctor. "Remember being told that if you wanted to do a role properly, you had to live the part."

Saul jammed on his hat and snorted disbelief. "I reckon you boys had a sidebet."

"Maybe next time," Rusty smiled, smoothing down his jacket.

Saul picked up the bag and pulled out the mobile phone.

"Make sure you dust this," he warned.

"I will."

Rusty answered both the voiced and the unvoiced instruction. Saul would never stop worrying. And he would never want him to. It was what made Saul Saul.

They stepped out on to the casino floor.

"See you in the van," Saul said softly, heading towards the elevator and the suite.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Rusty assured him and moved in the opposite direction.

Livingson's voice spoke in his ear. "Rusty, you're up."

He held the virgin mobile phone in his hand and prepared himself to let Terry Benedict in on a little secret.

* * *

A/N: there's an obscure "Falling like dominoes" point of homage in here worth large chocolate cookie. More chocolate cookies to everyone still reading. Thanks. :)


	27. Chapter 27 Conversations

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Disclaimer: didn't write the screenplay. Didn't create the characters.

A/N: have been reading otherhawk's author notes with interest. Mmm. *clears throat* "Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking…" Worried yet, mate? :D

On another note, otherhawk remains all things wonderful including a patient sounding board for an irritated writer. Mate, you are seriously brilliant and all fic is so much _better_ because of you. Thank you. :)

Chapter Twenty-seven: Conversations

* * *

Rusty held the phone to his ear and listened to it ringing once, twice, too many times… _Answer it, just answer it. _And then he heard Tess's voice. He winced. He'd tried to prepare for this but even so…

"Can I have a word with Mr Benedict?"

Formal, polite, hoping his voice was sufficiently distorted by technology and time that Tess would not remember it.

"_It's for you." _

"Who the hell is this?"

Terry Benedict. Arrogant, aggressive, egotistical. Rusty smiled. His favourite kind of mark. The kind that thought that nothing could touch them.

"The man who's robbing you," he replied, nonchalantly and waited.

He could picture Terry, frozen to the spot, hearing the impossible and trying to compute the information, glaring at Tess as if it were her fault; wanting to dismiss this as a prank call, logic _telling_ him it was a prank call; instinct telling him not to be too hasty, instinct reminding him that there had just been thirty seconds of complete blackout and chaos.

"Robbing me?" Light and yet menacing. "That some kind of joke?"

"Well, personally, I doubt you'll find it amusing. Although I don't know," Rusty mused, walking coolly, calmly through the casino, "I've heard you're a pretty funny guy."

"You're lying."

"_Really." _A world of emphasis in one word. "You might want to check in with Mr Walsh."

"Why should I waste my time? My security is impregnable."

"Well, in that case, you won't have a thing to worry about. Will you?"

There was a pause. A silence. Terry weighing up his options. And then a terse "We'll see who's got cause for concern."

There was the sound of rustling and background noise and Rusty stood well back and watched as Terry hove into view, striding furiously through the casino, Tess about three steps behind, trying to keep up. They disappeared into the security entrance. Good. Terry was taking the bait. Now all he needed to do was to keep on the move and not allow cameras or men on the floor to pick him up.

"What the hell's going on in the vault?" Terry's voice, demanding and maybe just a little rattled.

"Nothing, sir, it's all normal." Reassuring. Puzzled.

"Show me."

And now they were calling up the pictures that they were being fed by Livingston. The pictures that showed all was quiet on the Western front.

"I'm afraid you're mistaken." Terry back on line, back talking to him directly. And Terry sounded confident again. He was probably imagining that this was a put-up job by someone – another casino-owner maybe. Probably right now, Terry was kicking himself for falling for a stunt. Rusty smiled and wished Danny was there to share the moment.

"You watching your monitors? OK…keep watching."

He couldn't see the screens flicker and switch but the silence at the other end of the phone was as tight and as tense as he could have hoped for.

"In this town, your luck can change just that quickly."

"Find out how much money we have down there," Terry snapped at some minion.

The phone went muffled. Terry must be holding the phone close to his chest while…while what? Rusty frowned.

"Alright. You've proved your point," Terry said with barely controlled venom. "You broke into my vault. Congratulations, you're a dead man."

"Maybe." Much as he hated to do so, Rusty had to admit the possibility.

"Maybe?" Terry was scornful. "May I ask how you expect to leave? Do you believe I'm going to allow you to bring bags full of my money out of my casino doors?"

"No." Patient and aggravating as hell. "You're gonna carry it out for us."

"And why would I do that?" Rusty could _feel_ how much Terry wanted to grit his teeth.

He strolled casually past gamblers and waitresses and hotel staff. Time to take charge of this call.

"Take a closer look at your monitor. As your manager's probably reporting to you now, you have a little over 160 million in your vault tonight. You may notice we're only packing up about half of that."

Rusty made his way closer and closer to fresh air and freedom, finding his way out of the labyrinth like Theseus following Ariadne's thread.

"The other half we're leaving in your vault. Boobytrapped as a hostage. You let our 80 million go and you get to keep yours."

Yeah. Like that would ever be an option for Terry. The beauty of this whole con was that Terry was helping them rob his own casinos.

"That's the deal." A sixth sense started tingling. "You try and stop us and we'll blow both cash amounts."

He turned back round to scan the floor he'd just walked across. And there was Tess standing in front of him. Tess, as tall and striking and regal as ever and looking royally pissed off. Rusty spoke quickly into the phone.

"Mr Benedict? You can lose 80 million dollars tonight secretly or you can lose 160 million dollars publicly. It's your decision."

He cupped his hand firmly over the receiver.

"Hi," he greeted her. _Damn_ it, all this planning and it could go up in smoke in a heartbeat.

"Where's Danny?"

Tight and quietly challenging. And Rusty knew what _that _was about. Tess always associated Rusty and crime as the ultimate in temptation as far as Danny was concerned.

"He's fine, he's in good form," he said quickly. "He requests that you go upstairs and watch TV."

"He does?"

So much unvoiced hurt in there. So much love and so much hurt and so much anger. Rusty stared at her and concentrated on offering up all the reassurance he could just as he'd done an age ago.

"_He loves you, Tess...I have known him for a very, very long time and he has never felt this way about anyone."_

"OK…" Terry was back on the phone.

"It's alright, Tess," Rusty said with soft promise.

He saw the waver in her eyes. The yearning. Four years of separation and it hadn't just been Danny who'd been hurting.

_Trust me._

"You have a deal," Terry, all business-like and very much the answer Rusty wanted to hear from Tess. For a moment, Rusty wanted to tell Terry to hold the line. For a moment, Tess and Danny's relationship was way, way more important than three casinos, 160 million and the job of a lifetime.

_Focus_, Rusty told himself. Nine other people were counting on him.

He could only snatch another couple of seconds to speak to Tess.

"I promise," he told her and he wanted so much for her to believe because he was going to do everything to make it so.

And now, Rusty had to turn away and trust to Tess not to go running to Terry. Trust her to do as he'd asked and go up to Terry's suite.

"Fantastic," he told Terry. "Here's what you do."

"He's made the call, Rus," Livingston said in his other ear and Rusty started walking more quickly, rattling off the instructions and the threats, eyes peeled for any unusual movement, any sign that Terry was organising a counteraction that they hadn't allowed for.

Terry's careless whisper floated down the phoneline. "He's in the casino by the slots."

"Of course I'm in the casino." Rusty was almost disappointed with Terry. "In fact I'm staying in your hotel. I have two words for you. _Mini bar_."

With emphasis. With feeling. It was a serious point that needed making and Rusty hoped that Terry would take the feedback on board. God knew if he were ever to run a hotel, he'd make sure that customer expectations were exceeded and then some.

He carried on with the list of misleading, diversionary instructions. Don't give Terry any time to think and plan anything other than standard operating procedures for Terry: make the call and nail the sons of bitches with the temerity to try to rob him.

"…when I get the word the van is away and the money is secure, my men will exit the building and once their safety is confirmed, you'll get your vault back."

He watched security start to make a clear pathway between the security entrance and the main doors and imagined men carrying the bags filled with the flyers up out into the open. Wheels well and truly in motion.

"Alright." And that confident note was back in Terry's voice. "Now I have complied with your every request. Would you agree?

"I would."

"Good. Because now I have one of my own."

Rusty heard the start of the rant. The anger building in Terry's voice.

"Run and hide, asshole. Run and hide." Cold and vicious and furious.

"Rus?" Livingston in his earpiece. "We're in position."

Time to exit stage left. Rusty pulled out a handkerchief, wiped the phone and left it lying on the side. Pity he couldn't stay for the rest of the threats: no doubt they would be colourful.

Rusty moved smoothly and swiftly out of the casino and headed round the corner to the side door where Basher was waiting with uniform, helmet and gun.

"Shake a leg," Basher advised, helping him strip - "_Easy _with the jacket!" – and pull on the disguise.

Rusty stuffed his clothes into one of the holdalls and then visors down, they were moving through the inside of the hotel with authority, the uniform doing what it did best, parting the waves of people.

Right on cue, the others walked in the front entrance and one of them...Turk. Had to be Turk. One of them was doing a series of complicated hand signals that could have been tic-tac on a racecourse. Maybe Saul had been giving him lessons. Rusty responded in kind and he and Basher joined up with them, Rusty leading them up to the security entrance and men falling over themselves to help escort them to the elevator shaft.

"Perimeter's under surveillance," Rusty barked. "I have men covering every way in and out of this place. No one leaves unless I say so."

There was a flurry of nods. Uniforms and guns had a certain way of being listened to.

"We can send you down in the elevator-" one of them gabbled and Rusty held up an impatient hand.

"And warn them we're coming?" he said, calling the man an idiot without saying it out loud. "Leave it to the professionals."

* * *

"This professional could have done with taking the elevator," Saul muttered as they pulled him up.

"Details, Saul," Rusty replied. "You're the one who taught me."

In the half-darkness, Rusty looked round at the faces, tense, expectant. They were waiting, he suddenly realised, for something, some word from him. And that was surely Danny's territory. What the hell did they want him to say? _No guts, no glory? Let's win one for the Gipper? One small step for a con?_

In his head, he heard Danny's words and he said them out loud.

"Gentlemen, let's go and make ourselves extremely rich."

They grinned as one.

"And keep focused," Rusty instructed, cracking the flares.


	28. Chapter 28 Endgame

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

Disclaimer: didn't create them, don't own them.

A/N: thanks as always to otherhawk, sounding-board extraordinaire.

Chapter Twenty-eight: Endgame

* * *

Radio channel open, Rusty stood in front of the open elevator doors and played the part for the benefit of Terry Benedict, standing in the control room and listening intently; colouring in the pages of Terry's imagination.

"_Night goggles on."_

"_Prepare to cut power."_

Down the end of the corridor was the vault and in the vault was a pile of money and sitting on the pile of money were three men in black. Immediately and without prior consultation, red targeting lights were trained on them, dark humour seizing the moment.

There was the faint tang of sleeping gas in the air mixed with the aftersmell of explosion. Rusty climbed out into the corridor and saw Danny looking straight at him, saw Danny's smile crank up an impossible notch and the bright light of _happy_ in his eyes. Rusty felt the shine rise up out of him in answer, gleaming through him.

Saul brushed past him and Rusty felt the silent, gentle remonstrance. The job wasn't over and the time to be smiling was when they had got the money out. When they were safe. Rusty saw the wry acknowledgement from Danny and the absolute lack of apology. Yeah. He felt like that too. Five years. One with Danny on the wagon and four where they hadn't even been talking. This wasn't about dangerous complacency. This was about the absolute joy, this was about the better than sex. It only felt this way when they were working together.

They worked swiftly, packing the bags, Yen and Linus climbing into the SWAT gear, Danny heading back to the elevator shaft. Time for one last exchange.

_Don't get bored._

_Don't get stupid._

And then Rusty was back on the radio to Terry.

"_Breaching elevator doors now. We have two guards, bound, unconscious. Wait a minute!"_

"_Guys! Guys! Someone's here! Someone's here!" _

"_Take 'em down now!"_

A canister primed and rolled into the vault.

"_I got 'em!"_

Rusty let off a round of fire and the canister exploded into flash and burn. He looked across at Livingston who nodded, holding the remote, ready to let the Bellagio have control of its cameras again.

"_Light! Light! We need power now!"_

Livingston threw the switch as lights flickered on around them and Turk and Virgil busied themselves cutting through the restraints on the guards.

"_It appears a high explosive device has been detonated. I repeat, has been detonated. Continuing search for survivors."_

The vault was a mess, all bills and chips and twisted racking. Rusty gave a nod of approval: Basher knew his stuff.

The elevator arrived and Terry swept into the wreckage, throwing glares of contempt at the two unfortunate guards. The guards were fired, of course; they just didn't know it yet.

"Sir," Rusty barked, standing respectfully and professionally in front of Terry, "our search has revealed no suspects. Nor have we been able to determine at this time how they entered or exited the premises."

"Take your men out."

"Sir, may I suggest that you stand outside till the bomb squad-"

"_Now." _Quiet and insistent. Terry wanted to be alone to deal with the shock and trauma and fury and Rusty was absolutely fine with that.

"It's your vault. Blue Team! Movin' out!"

All of them, back in the elevator, clutching the bags of crisp, green bills and Rusty suddenly cast an anxious eye at the maximum weight allowance; a detail that he hadn't thought about. He did a rough calculation in his head, balancing body weight and cash and decided that they were OK…probably… Unfamiliar sweat beads clustered on his brow and his mouth went dry. He _couldn't _have screwed up on something so _stupid._ Terry would punish such a mistake with ferocity and finality and it would be his fault, all his fault...

Heart racing, Rusty let out a silent breath of relief as the elevator moved upwards.

* * *

Out onto the casino floor and Rusty led them through the parted crowds and towards the entrance. The sweat blurred his vision and he blinked it away, throwing up his visor, knowing that it protected him from the camera angles, knowing that the unearthly green light would distort recognition.

Together with Turk, he climbed up into the front of the SWAT van while the others headed for the back. Turk pulled into the warehouse and Rusty leapt out, hauling the doors shut behind them.

"We did it!" Linus exclaimed with delight as they disembarked. "We …"

Linus tailed off and flushed, suddenly awkward as if he could hear the unvoiced snort from Turk and see the amused look that wasn't on Frank's face. Rusty felt sorry for the kid. The first big job was always shockingly wonderful. He could remember grinning like an idiot. Luckily, he'd been grinning at Danny and Danny had been grinning right back at him.

Saul clapped Linus on the shoulder, taking the sting out of the moment. "We did-"

"-but it's not over yet," Rusty finished. He glanced at Livingston. "How are we doing?"

Livingston studied the handheld monitor. "See for yourself."

Rusty stared at the tiny screen feeding the picture of the security corridor with those damn taupe walls and then…Terry. Two goons. Danny. Danny in one piece but not out of danger, not by a long way. Rusty looked at Livingston who was already on the phone, dialling the direct line in Terry Benedict's suite, waiting for Tess to pick up.

_Pick up, pick up, pick up…_

"Hello." Tess's voice.

"Turn to channel 88," Livingston said and killed the call and threw the switch on the handset that showed Tess what was going on.

Rusty found himself holding his breath as the scene played and there was Terry, coldly furious and there was Danny asking the 64 million dollar question.

"_What if I told you I could get your money back if you give up Tess – what would you say?"_

Giving up Tess. One thing that Danny would never, ever do. And with one simple word, Terry showed the chasm of difference between him and Danny.

So far, so good and maybe, just maybe_…(the coin flashed through the air, spinning, spinning…)_

"_Show Mr Ocean the exit and contact the police. I'm sure he's in violation of his parole."_

Rusty sighed inwardly as the coin landed the wrong way up.

* * *

Reuben and Virgil returned as the last of the money was placed in Reuben's car.

"Are we ready?" Reuben asked. "Jefferson'll be waiting to process the cash."

Jefferson was Reuben's moneyman: shrewd and capable of making millions of dollars vanish faster than someone who insisted on designer labels let loose on a shopping spree.

"Give him our best." Rusty was busy shrugging on his jacket. He looked over at Turk, Livingston and Basher. "All set?"

* * *

While Reuben and Frank went to bank their takings, there were three loose ends to tie up: Lyman Zerga's room that needed to be emptied and wiped down; a fake vault that needed to be dismantled; a van that needed to be disguised. And they were up against the clock.

Rusty had asked Saul to oversee the work in the warehouse while he himself took charge of clearing out the Mirador Suite. And there'd been a little discussion around the wisdom of Rusty setting foot back inside the Bellagio after his recent conversations with Terry which had been countered by Rusty pointing out that Saul was supposed to be dead. Terry Benedict might be outwittable but he was far from stupid.

Sweeping the technology into the laundry bin was straightforward enough and then it was all about cleaning. The fingerprint wipedown didn't have to be clinical – this was a hotel room after all – but any litter, anything with immediate DNA had to be removed.

"That's the last of it," Livingston said, carefully putting the final monitor into the laundry cart.

Rusty emptied the last wastepaper bin into the black sack and knotted the top, tossing it on top of the electronic equipment. "Then let's get out of here."

* * *

Reuben and Frank were back at the warehouse before them. Jefferson had banked the money and provided individual account details. Frank was busy passing them round. He smiled at Rusty and handed over two sets of log ins and passwords.

"Guess you want both of these, right?"

Yeah. He did.

Rusty looked round. The vault was gone, sitting in the back of the van with the new plates and the fresh paint. The laundry cart joined the rest of the goods to be disposed of. He glanced over at the twins and opened his mouth but Turk and Virgil got in first.

"We're going to keep going until we're out of Nevada."

"_Way_ out of Nevada."

"We're going to be careful."

"And smart. We're going to lose stuff bit at a time."

"Different towns and different places."

"Including the van."

"Eventually. In a crusher."

"That do ya?"

Rusty was smiling long before they were finished. Making it clear they weren't a pair of peckerwood jackasses.

Suddenly he realised that they were all looking at him again. Without Danny, the focus fell on him. DannyandRusty. Just the way things were. Just the way things were meant to be. And now, in Danny's absence, what was needed was closure. Thing was, there was nothing that he could say that could capture the euphoria... Certainly not in such a mundane setting as the warehouse…

The grin crept slowly over his face.

* * *

Without words, they walked out into the night, tasting freedom and victory. Without words, they stood in front of the Bellagio fountains, leaning up against the railing and watching them play.

They were triumphant, they were glorious. Now was their time.

Rusty stood between Saul and Turk and savoured the moment. He looked up and down the line at nine men who were at the top of their game. This had been the job of a lifetime and they all knew it: this one was direct entry into the Hall of Fame.

Rusty clapped Saul fondly on the shoulder with a "_don't let's leave it so long" _and walked away_. _Because Hall of Fame was one thing but for him, the job wasn't over.

* * *

She was easier to find than he'd expected, sitting on a bench the other side of the Bellagio, clutching her purse, staring numbly at the passing traffic. She'd been crying. Rusty slid down on to the bench next to her.

"I've been a fool," she said, not looking at him. "Haven't I?"

"Depends on your definition of 'fool'," Rusty said gently.

Tess wasn't having any of his gentleness.

"He loves me, Rusty. He loves me so much and I love him and I threw it all back at him because- because-"

"Because you are who you are, Tess. Just as he is who he is. Love isn't logical or honest. It plays dirty. Believe me, I know."

_Somewhere…Isabel…_

Tess sniffed and he reached into his pocket for a silk handkerchief.

"Love's more twisted than any con, Tess. You just have to decide how far down the corkscrew you're prepared to go."

She swallowed and mumbled something into the silk that he couldn't catch but which might have been about now knowing exactly how far that was. Rusty hesitated for a second and then reached out and took her hand.

"It's alright," he said again, just as he had in the casino. "I promise."

* * *

A/N: we're nearly there. Does anyone else feel we're nearly there? I'm certain we're nearly there. :) Thank you to everyone who's still reading. :)


	29. Chapter 29 And fade

The Benedict Job: a different perspective by InSilva

To echo my original disclaimer: these amazing characters aren't mine. They're the wonderful creation of a team of wonderful writers brought to life by an ensemble cast of wonderful actors. And I've so enjoyed playing in the playground.

Chapter Twenty-nine: And fade…

* * *

"Do you have anything in this town that you care about?"

Tess blinked. "That I…?"

Rusty repeated the question, clearly, carefully and urgently. Clothes and shoes could be replaced but if Tess had something she needed either at the gallery or back at the Bellagio then he would get it for her. He would take her to Reuben's or JoJo's and he would go and retrieve it. Hopefully without alerting Terry to the fact. His mind was already working on distractions – fire alarm? - and thinking about breaking in and searching and finding and-

Tess was shaking her head. "No. There's nothing," she said decisively.

"Then let's get out of here," Rusty said, standing up and holding out his hand towards her.

She looked at him for a long moment and he remembered that once upon a time there had been welcome and friendship and affection but there had also been a little distance, a little wariness. It wasn't him she'd fallen in love with, after all, it was Danny. And he'd always be part of Danny but he was mixed up with the illicit and _that_ was the part of Danny that Tess wasn't comfortable with.

He found himself holding his breath. And then Tess gave him a small smile and put her hand in his.

* * *

She climbed into the convertible and Rusty shut the door and walked round to the driver's side. He started the car and pulled away, the bright lights of the Strip blurring past as they travelled.

"Where are we going?" Tess asked after a few minutes.

He glanced sideways. She still looked shell-shocked. It had been quite an evening after all. "Anywhere you want to go?"

She considered and then gave a vague little shrug.

"How about somewhere where you can lose yourself for a while?" Rusty suggested gently and Tess nodded.

"That would be nice," she said softly.

Rusty dug out his phone and dialled a number. "Topher? Rusty. I need a favour."

* * *

It was a long drive through the night to Beverley Hills. Tess dozed at his side and woke as they pulled up outside the villa.

"Somewhere safe," Rusty promised as he opened the car door.

The front door opened and a smiling maid welcomed them. "Mr Ryan? I am Stella. Miss Bernadette came. She said to expect you."

_Topher had put his new PA on the phone and Rusty had introduced himself._

"_Call me Berni," the friendly efficient voice told him. "Let me know what you need and I'll have it there on arrival."_

Berni had been true to her word and Rusty was impressed. Stella led them into the living area where a cold supper was on the table. In the ensuite bedrooms, were new clothes, designer labels. He smiled to himself when he remembered how startled Tess had looked when he'd given her dress size over the phone without consulting her.

"Drinks, madam? Sir?" Stella asked.

"No, thanks," Tess murmured. She gave a sigh and waved a hand at the surroundings. "I can't…"

"You want to hit the sack?" Rusty suggested and she nodded gratefully. "Go get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning. Night, Tess."

"Goodnight, Rusty."

The bedroom door closed behind Tess.

"Thanks, Stella," Rusty smiled. "You don't need to wait up. I'll sort myself out."

He opened the door to the refrigerator and pulled out a Coke then turned his attention to the table of food.

* * *

Remnants of a happy dream lingered and Rusty held on to sleep a little longer. Then morning intruded and reluctantly, he let go of the warm and safe and let out an uninhibited yawn, raising himself up on his elbows.

Had last night really happened? Three casinos, $160m dollars, the absolute buzz? Then his head cleared and he remembered the rest of the story.

* * *

Breakfast outside with Tess in front of the pool and they were politely friendly to each other. Last night had been about vulnerability and the raw but Tess had slept since. Now she was back to somewhere close to how she'd been when she'd been married to Danny. Courteous and tolerant. That was probably the right description.

Rusty had a choice. Ignore it. Challenge it. Charm it. Or…

He leant across the table, looking at her directly but non-threateningly.

"So. How are you doing?" Soft. Genuine.

Tess had a choice too. Ignore the concern. Keep things on this slightly stiff, formal footing. Or…

Blue eyes offered up an openness that was hard to resist. Her shoulders sagged.

"I'm OK, I guess. Just… You know, Danny doesn't make things easy." Anger in her voice. Her eyes dropped down to the table. "I loved him so much and when I found out he was lying and stealing and lying _about _stealing…" A sigh and the anger died away. "I never imagined he would ever be someone who hurt me. And it _hurt._"

Rusty said nothing. He waited. He thought maybe this was the first time Tess had really talked about it.

"Maybe arguing and storming out wasn't the answer," she said and Rusty thought about his own argument with Danny. Tess had a point.

She shot him a tight little smile and then looked away, looked up at the blue sky and the morning sun. "I was just so… I thought he might come after me that night. I thought he might stop whatever job he was planning with you, at least."

He hadn't been involved with what Danny was planning but it didn't seem the right moment to mention it.

"I spent the night and the next day and the next night at a Broadway hotel trying to decide what to do. I'd made my mind up to go back and talk it over." Her voice shook a little. "Cynthia Davenport."

"Cynthia…?" He frowned at the non-sequitur.

"She was at the dinner where Danny was arrested. I was on my way back to Danny when I bumped into her and she was _full_ of the story. All eager to tell me about the handcuffs and the police."

Tess drew herself up in the chair and Rusty had the sense of how that had stung her. How much she'd wanted to defend Danny and couldn't and how she'd loathed the gossip.

"After the trial and the sentence, lots of people I thought I knew made a point of discussing Danny. As if they knew him. As if they had a clue about what makes Danny so…"

Tears were blinked back and a handkerchief was pushed into her fingers.

"Thanks." A watery smile. "This is becoming a habit."

"S'OK. I got lots of handkerchiefs."

The smile warmed and then her expression became more pensive.

"When Danny was inside, I was still so angry at him. For four _years_. And I was angry at myself for loving him in the first place. This impossible man." She took a breath. "When I met Terry, he was everything Danny isn't."

Rusty could barely contain the snort. She'd got that right.

"I thought I wanted that. I thought Terry was someone I could rely on. Someone who truly cared about me. Someone I could trust." Tess exhaled slowly. "Seeing Danny again… I'd forgotten how alive he made me feel. It was like I'd been existing not living. Danny's…"

Spontaneous. Imaginative. Adventurous. Rusty nodded to show that Tess didn't need to finish that sentence.

"And after last night..." She shook her head. "I walked away from Terry and it just _hit_ me. How much time we'd wasted. How much I love Danny. How much he loves me."

"He does, Tess," Rusty assured her.

She nodded. "You told me that ages ago."

"It's still true." He tilted his head. "You remember what else I said?"

Tess smiled slightly. "You said a lot of things would have to happen for me to accept what Danny is."

She remembered. Rusty felt the smile creep across his face.

"And?"

"And I want to try," Tess said sincerely. With determination.

Rusty reached over and squeezed her hand and the smile was on both their faces.

* * *

Rusty made the call about midday and he saw Tess's face as he spoke.

"Danny?" she asked immediately when he'd hung up.

"No. News about Danny. He's back inside safely-"

"Safely?"

Rusty chose not to elaborate. "He's OK is the main thing."

"When can we go visit?"

Rusty didn't do prisons. He didn't do courts _(except the one time) _and he didn't do police stations and he didn't do prisons. He was superstitious like that and it was a superstition he shared with everyone he worked with and only Danny would make him reconsider. But it made sense to stay away.

"Low profile, Tess. Terry Benedict's on the warpath for whoever robbed him and Danny's still gonna be high on his list. We don't want to give him any ammunition."

"Then I could write-"

Rusty shook his head.

"Benedict will be watching. Like a hawk that's lost a lot of money."

"Danny's my husband!"

"Ex-husband. Keep Terry thinking that way, for now at least."

Tess was silent.

"Is Terry always going to be there?" she asked in a low voice. "Are we always going to be looking over our shoulder for him?"

"Probably. Like I said, it was a lot of money."

"Then what difference does it make? Now or later?"

"The difference is that in three to six months, Danny's going to be on the right side of those bars. He can protect you."

"Is that what you're doing?"

"Right now, yes," he said with honesty. "You need protecting."

She glared at him. "Maybe I don't want to be-"

"Danny would never forgive me if anything happened to you," Rusty interrupted then added lightly, "Besides. I'd quite like it if you stayed healthy."

"But I need to talk to Danny," Tess argued. "I can't wait three to six months. We've got to get a message to him. Something. Please."

"No." Rusty shook his head. "No communication."

Tess's mouth set tightly. "Well, what did you do when Danny was in prison the last time?"

"I told you. No communication."

She looked at him trying to see the lie that wasn't there and then her expression changed.

"Four years?" she whispered. "You left him on his own for four years?"

Yeah. Rusty closed his eyes briefly.

"He didn't speak to _you_ for four years?" Tess said wonderingly.

"We…" He licked his lips. "We weren't exactly… It was for the best."

He saw her face and maybe she could glimpse what that had cost both of them.

"Look, not every decision is the one that you want to make. Sometimes, you just have to go with the bigger picture."

She digested the information. "So what do we do?"

"We keep on the move, Tess. We don't stay too long in one place and we criss-cross the States."

"A road trip?"

"Yeah. Keep anyone looking for us off-balance. I'll find out when Danny's going to get out and we'll be there to meet him. OK?"

"Alright," she said reluctantly.

Alright. And there was the plan.

* * *

Three to six months of travelling together, talking together, and they came out the other side with their relationship on a firmer footing than ever before. He'd told her a hundred different stories about Danny and she'd shared the hundred different things she loved about Danny: her eyes had shone when she'd listened and sparkled when she'd talked.

And they'd moved on to other ground too. Personal stuff. He'd glossed over the very early days but he'd told her about growing up with Saul and Annie. In turn, Tess had described her childhood and her parents. They knew each other better and he thought maybe Tess finally understood how he and she fitted into Danny's life. Neither of them more important, neither of them loved less, both of them necessary.

* * *

Release day.

Tess was smiling. Smiling as if she would never stop. It was infectious and Rusty smiled back at her. It could have been raining stair-rods and it would still have felt like summer.

They arrived at the prison an hour early and Tess remarked on the fact.

"Don't know who else is coming to welcome Danny," Rusty explained.

The silver sedan arrived half an hour later, circling the lot, scanning the other vehicles before parking up behind them. Benedict's men. Rusty would lay money.

"Stay in the car, huh? I'll bring him back to you."

Tess nodded and climbed carefully into the back seat. Rusty grinned at the forward-planning.

Rusty leaned up against the linked fence and munched the cheeseburger he'd bought from the van of fast food and grease in the parking lot. Not the best he'd ever eaten by a long shot.

If things had been different, he'd have been here when Danny got out the first time. He wondered if Danny had been looking for him in spite of everything. He wondered if Danny had been disappointed. It seemed strange to think that a few months ago, they hadn't really been speaking.

Indigestion momentarily seized him and he thumped his chest. It kind of helped with the discomfort. Didn't help improve the burger. He glanced up and suddenly burgers were the last thing on his mind. He screwed up the paper with the remains of his meal and threw it away.

Danny sauntered towards him, nonchalance personified, wearing the tuxedo in which he'd been arrested.

"I hope you were the groom," Rusty quipped.

Danny considered his response.

"Ted Nugent called," he said finally. "He wants his shirt back."

They smiled at one another and it was like they'd never been apart. Rusty turned and walked towards the car, Danny falling naturally into step alongside him.

"13 million and you drive this piece of shit across country to pick me up?"

"Blew it all on the suit," Rusty batted back. Danny knew; of course, he knew.

"Where are they?"

"Back row, silver sedan, 10 o'clock."

He did not have to look to see Danny's gaze casually swivel left and back again.

"Stopped and picked up your personal effects. Hope you don't mind."

Rusty stood back to let Danny see Tess on the back seat.

"I'm not sure these belong to me," Danny said, leaning against the car door and Rusty could _feel_ the happiness rolling off him.

Danny slid in alongside Tess and Rusty sat in the driver's seat, saying nothing, listening to the reunion unfold behind him as he started the car up.

"We need to get Rusty a girl," Tess announced.

"There's a women's prison down the road," Rusty said lightly. There'd only ever been one girl for Rusty and she wasn't likely to walk back into his life any time soon.

He drove off, letting the roof of the convertible fold away. Because today was a good day and the sun was shining.

* * *

A/N: Inconceivable as it seems, I didn't know her when I started writing this fic but I do now and this is a retrospective dedication to otherhawk, full of the sentimental and full of the grateful for listening to the frustration when I've been trying to join up the dots of what happens off-screen and trying to do Rusty's attention to detail justice. Mate, I think this fic will always have a bit of a special place for me because it's probably what got us talking. ;)

This was the second O11 fic I started writing - over three years ago now - and it feels so _weird_ that it's over. Thank you to all of you who've read and all of you who've reviewed. I hope you enjoyed reading it. :)


End file.
